


Sins, Confessions and Detective Work

by rebel_raven



Category: All American Rejects, Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, Gym Class Heroes, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, The Academy Is..., The Used
Genre: AU present day, Angst and Fluff, Christmas Fluff, Confessions, Detectives and Cops, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Past Relationships, Priests, mafia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-19
Updated: 2014-05-20
Packaged: 2018-01-02 01:12:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 62,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1050758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebel_raven/pseuds/rebel_raven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard Way is one of the best detectives in New Jersey, but he has a problem with keeping partners. He is assigned a new one while he is working on one of the hardest cases he has ever dealt with; Bert McCracken. The ‘Dead Man Drugger’, ‘Mafia Kingpin’, ‘Shadow King’ and even the ‘Shadow Dealer’. </p>
<p>  Frank Iero, his newest partner, seems to know a lot more then he shows but the two don’t exactly understand each other, at first sight. To Gerard, Frank is a book with its pages torn and frayed, a dark past written inside that he is itching to figure out (and help with if he can). To Frank, Gerard is a painting that is coffee stained, chaotic and insane but he still wants to figure out what brushstrokes made up the colors and what hides behind them. A budding friendship between danger, churches and a heart at gun point with the trigger about to be pulled. The curtains rise. </p>
<p>   Let the show begin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Another Day, Another Partner

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again!  
> So, I started this as a gift for a friend of mine and I've been MEANING to finish it... Only life and school caught up and I haven't been able to do anything with it!  
> So, thanks to Cass and her amazing patience and waiting since the beginning of last year. (See: beginning of time).  
> DISCLAIMER!  
> All people belong to themselves, music belongs to respective artists/singers. (OCs belong to me)
> 
> Enjoy!  
> -RR

“Gerard Way, you have to be the most insane human being I’ve ever met!” His partner yelled, storming away. Gerard, standing at the doorway to their office, was painted with bruises and the crust of dried blood, but grinning victoriously. He’d been tracking their most recent suspect, and to him, most obvious, for some time, and had just today caught him. He started following his partner, though he struggled to remember Jimmy’s last name as he ran down the hall after him.

 Jimmy had been his partner for about eight months, about the time they’d started getting any real, solid leads Bert McCracken. McCracken had half a dozen nicknames, the ‘Shadow Dealer’, “Dead Man Drugger’, the ‘Shadow King’, and ‘Mafia Kingpin’. He was heartless, ruthless and cunning. A mafia boss caught up in a parade of drug deals, and all around scum bag. He was also a challenge, and did Gerard Way love a challenge.

 **Name: Gerard Arthur Way**  
**Occupation: Detective for NJPD since 2008**  
**Age: 29**

“Jim... Jimmy! I’m FINE! Most of the blood isn’t even mine!” he called after his retreating partner. Jimmy didn’t turn around, nor did he stop; if anything he sped up and bolted towards the chief’s office. Oh no... Bob Bryar, whilst a very good friend of his, was going to KILL him for, as he said, ‘ _chasing away another partner._ ’ Jim, as Gerard was dreading his inevitable fate, yanked open the door and stormed into the office, pale face redder than a fresh tomato. Or maybe the blood that was still drying on Gerard.“I want to be redistricted, or re-assigned to a new partner. I don’t care how long it takes or what I have to do in the meantime, as long as it has as little to do with HIM as possible!” He pointed an accusatory finger towards Gerard, who, admittedly, was almost nonchalantly hiding from his friend and boss by leaning against the door frame, though it was a bad idea as he was still technically inside the blonde man’s office, though his eyebrow was raised and a neutral expression on his face as he attempted to look the picture of innocence. This mental image he had of himself may have been ruined by the blood, bruises, and slightly torn clothing. And he had been so sure the altar boy idea, even though he HATED the idea of it, would have worked. It did, to an extent before the suspect tried to shoot him and the other kid. Well, back to square one.

“I want to be redistricted, or re-assigned to a new partner. I don’t care how long it takes or what I have to do in the meantime, as long as it has as little to do with HIM as possible!” He pointed an accusatory finger towards Gerard, who, admittedly, was almost nonchalantly hiding from his friend and boss by leaning against the door frame, though it was a bad idea as he was still technically inside the blonde man’s office, though his eyebrow was raised and a neutral expression on his face as he attempted to look the picture of innocence. This mental image he had of himself may have been ruined by the blood, bruises and slightly torn clothing. And he had been so sure the altar boy idea, even though he HATED the idea of it, would have worked. It did, to an extent before the suspect tried to shoot him and the other kid. Well, back to square one.

 **Name: Robert Bryar**  
**Occupation: Chief of police of New Jersey force**  
**Age: 31**

Bob looked up at Jimmy, then over at Gerard, with his face in neutral but the rest of him bruised, bloody and an overall mess as he leaned against the frame and put down his papers, stuffing them into a red folder and rubbed his temples.

“Fine... You can be reassigned in about a month or so. Until you are, you’re doing paper work. Got it?” Bob pierced him with a hard stare, not **THE STARE** but one that would make sure he didn’t argue. Jimmy nodded and positively, down-right fled the office, almost ramming into Gerard, who fortunately moved out of the way just in time. Unfortunately, Jimmy’s some-what unexpected but mostly predictable flight turned Bob’s attention back to Gerard and he glared at the detective, who, for the first time in several months, felt genuine fear.

“Really, Way? I need you to keep a partner for longer than eight months. Your running record is two years! I swear to God... I can’t keep finding new people that will take being assigned to you, and that list in itself is keeps getting shorter every two partners. It’s become so narrow that it has about ten people and now I have to ask Schechter for help!”

Gerard felt somewhat bad for Bob but he couldn’t help it if people didn’t like his methods though he will admit they were a bit insane and sometimes hectic, he meant well, he really did. People just didn’t like him because he was a) an ass, b) annoying, c) disorganized, d) reliant on coffee to basically function, f) unorthodox, g) refused to go to hospitals when badly injured, h) unfair, i) slept on an insane schedule, j) rude, k) refused to cooperate, l) manic, m) distracted easily, n) unreasonable, o) an insane driver, p) atheist, q) weird, r) didn’t shower/non-hygienic, s) didn’t eat enough food and fell asleep often during the day, t) bored easily, u) an exhibitionist, v) a bastard, w) strange, x) too eager to solve complicated cases, y) lazy with paperwork, and z) sometimes insensitive.

These are merely SOME of the words his partners had used to describe him; he had about twenty partners in his five years on the force, and he was edging thirty years old. He was pretty sure after Bob, Brian, Pete, Patrick and whoever the hell else had bets on him and his partners had run out of letters to the alphabet had switched to numbers. As Pete had told him one day whilst they were all drinking, well aside from him, “ _You’ve run out of letters in the English alphabet so we said, “We’re not doing the Chinese or some other crazy long alphabet, even though the Nordic alphabet has only three extra letters, so fuck it, we’ll do numbers.” And now-_ “ _Brian had cut in at that point, sounding annoyed,_ “ _And now we are up to eighty different words to describe you._ ” After that, Brian gave him his infamous glare, labelled by Pete as frankly **THE STARE**.

 “Way? Gee? Gerard!” Bob’s voice brought him back to the present situation. Right. Partnerless, again. **THE STARE** coming from Bob and every part of his body hurting like he had gotten run over by a steam roller. Well, at least he hadn’t broken anything this time. But he WAS going to need to take a shower, unfortunately, to keep the injuries he did have from getting infected and then he would have to go to a hospital. And he REALLY didn’t want to.  
He scratched his head and grimaced at his fingernails and asked,

“Can I go and take a shower?”

Bob’s eyes went huge and he shook his head quickly, cleaned out his ears and stared at the inside of his empty coffee cup and then back at Gerard. “Wait... What did you just ask?”

“Can I go and shower? I’m covered in blood, I’m pretty sure my hair is sticking to my scalp in a way it shouldn’t and I stink.”

“Either I have gone crazy, you’ve finally cracked and gone insane, or the world is ending. Well, if that one is the case, at least you’ll be clean.”“

“Why is the world ending?” One of the younger members of the force came by the door.

 **Name: Brendon Urie**  
**Occupation: Beat cop; area Newark to Henry Street**  
**Age: 25**

He was balancing a stack of files in on hand at least ten files high and in his somewhat free hand, a cup of coffee.

“Gerard Way, the one man on the force, possibly all of New Jersey, who doesn’t shower as often as humanly acceptable and usually only when threatened with most of our paperwork does he shower, just asked if he could go and shower. Because, and I quote, “I’m covered in blood, I’m pretty sure my hair is sticking to my scalp in a way it shouldn’t and I stink.” Bob explained, face still a mix of shock and disbelief.

Brendon raised his eyebrows, blinking rapidly and slapped his own face then shook it. He walked around the bloody detective to Bob’s desk and shuffled the files so that they were pressed against his bicep and forearm and picked up the file that Bob had been looking at. His eyes widened comically and his face split into a grin. He sprinted from the room files falling in his wake but strangely, not a drop of coffee spilled.

 “I call dibs on this one, Bob!” He called as he ran away and Gerard felt his stomach drop into his feet in a way that it only did when he was confronted with a needle. Bob was nodding, which means he accepted Brendon’s call of ‘dibs’ for whatever the hell he had called ‘dibs’ on.

“Okay... I’m just gonna go and get an intern to clean those up...” And before Bob could wrap Gerard into something he really didn’t want to do, he fled. For the showers. He didn’t think he would ever have to do such a thing. Soon as he was in the locker rooms, he sighed and went to his locker for extra clothes and shoes, tossing the ruined ones into the trash. Quickly, he stepped into the showering area and grabbed a towel, turning the heat all the way up so that it was almost burning but it relaxed his sore and abused muscles and he really needed this, as much as he hated to admit. He lathered up his jet black hair and just let the water wash over his body, washing the dried and drying blood off his body. He took soap and scrubbed his body hard as he could; he didn’t mind being clean, he just didn’t like the whole showering part of it. As he felt the grime and blood wash away down into the drain system, Gerard thought on what Brendon had said, “I call dibs on this one Bob!”

What the hell had the beat cop meant?! If he had to guess what was in that folder; either it was a case, which was probably not true as most of the harder cases were sent to him/ he stumbled upon them, and Brendon was a beat cop, which meant he stuck to Newark and the surrounding areas. So unless it was cases that Spencer, Gabe or anyone else needed, it was his job. Oh good god, he REALLY couldn’t deal with this kind of thinking at about... He looked out of the steam and blinked lazily up at the clock. Oh, it was only five o’clock in the afternoon. Which meant the kid that Mikey had gotten to be the altar boy would be back safely with Spencer by now and he could have his fourth, maybe fifth cup of coffee today since this headache with Bert McCracken and his mafia had come up. He loved challenges but when it began to mess with his caffeine intake, there was hell to pay when you mess with that. It was official, he was going to kill McCracken for messing with his coffee intake. If it was the last thing he did.

“Ugh... My head... I need coffee.” He said to the water and steam as it filled the small space. Finally, the heat began to dissipate and Gerard noticed how long he had been standing under the water. Which is to say, way longer than necessary, for any human being. He quickly shut off the water and leaped from the shower, towel in hand and quickly dried himself, his pale skin glinting with water droplets as he shook his hair out and the towel rubbed his skin dry quickly. He pulled on his extra clothes; jeans, black misfits shirt, leather jacket and his very comfortable boots. Maybe he could get Bob to let him go and get coffee from the nearest coffee shop, which was about an hour walk to and from...

‘ _Hmm... I can get an intern or something to do the paperwork... Or wait, they may mess it all up, just to be spiteful, and then make me do it all over again... Okay, better plan. Get two cups of coffee and then walk back and THEN shirk off paper work until I get back._ ’ He nodded and left the locker room and headed towards his office to dress the still bleeding wounds he had before his shirt got ruined. He had a first aid kit in his desk and sat on his desk, quickly pulling out gauze and bandages, cleaning his bicep quickly and then wrapping it tightly as he dared. He checked his fingers and wrists to be sure they were all still functioning and he hadn’t been riding on adrenaline and he had missed breaks or fractures somehow and then Bob made him go to the hospital. Even though he was being a hypocrite when he sent Gerard to the hospital saying that ‘ _Hospital’s are good for you_.’ Right. And then they’ll stick you with needles and other pointy objects saying that you’re going to be fine after they give some cocktail of doom by pumping it into your blood stream. With _needles._

He scoffed and pressed his fingers against his ribs; nothing screamed him in pain aside from a few bruises but nothing that took his breath away. He smiled and wrapped from his forearm to his fingers as blood and cuts created long, thin cuts into his skin. Gerard KNEW that jumping out a window was a bad idea but his head was protected and he had rolled as well so really it was only his arms that hurt, and his back but that only twinged when he moved the wrong way too fast. He knew though that Mikey was going to track him down and demand an explanation if the altar boy, or person who played the altar boy as he had forgotten his name, sadly, told on him to his younger brother. Gerard just hoped Mikey would leave him with enough pride to not chew him out in front of the force... The thought of coffee, though, and his second plan of getting coffee and then waiting until he got back to do any paperwork came to his mind and Gerard smiled, hopping off the desk and heading towards Bob.

Gerard would have run for Bob’s office if he didn’t have any dignity. Luckily, he did have some dignity and thus only walked very quickly towards the chief’s office and cautiously stuck his head into the doorway a bit to see if Bob was going to kill him or worse, deny him coffee, which he really needed at the moment. Bob though seemed to have calmed down and was now glaring at the paper work in front of him, but it seemed to Gerard, coffee deprived and tired as he was, that Bob was also in need of a REALLY good cup of coffee and not the half-baked instant coffee that they could only afford for here. Which severally sucked and was absolute shit as so many relied on that coffee to function but Gerard was not going to drink any more of that crap if he could help it.

“Hey, Chief... Can I go and get us some coffee? I’ll be back in about...” He glanced at the clock and edged a little bit more into the room.

“An hour or so? I can bring some paper work with me and do it while I’m out...” He knew he was grasping at a reason, like one grasps at straws in order to find a flimsy way to escape.

“Fine... Get me the largest fucking cup of coffee you can buy me and bring it back with you.” He grumbled, not even looking up. Gerard grinned, small white teeth showing in the light.

“Can do!” He said happily and down-right fled. Well, now his dignity had pretty much abandoned him and his feet carried him fast as they could to the doors, dodging around people, files, people with piles of files, and those that looked like they could use coffee or a break or a nap.  
 

‘ _I_ NEED _coffee to survive through all the paperwork I’m going to have to finish before I leave tonight... Oh, the joys._ ’ He thought sarcastically. Gerard stopped by his office and grabbed his badge from his paper free (for now) desk and attached it to his belt then his gun and put his holster on his sharp hips, then ran from the room before Jimmy whatever-his-last-name-was could come by and then run away. By the door, he swapped his blazer for his more comfortable hoodie; it had a red cross , not the hospital but more Celtic or a variation, symbol on its shoulder, it had buttons and a zipper, a hood and it was warm. The black hoodie fit him pretty well if he said so himself and Gerard loved it; nothing would make him get rid of it. With this article adorned, he opened the doors and held them open for Jon, Bob’s partner as he came inside, looking happy and more than a bit bouncy. Surprisingly, he also looked pretty clean and if the light in his eyes meant what Gerard thought it did, he really didn’t want to be “regaled” with the story.

 **Name: Jon walker**  
**Occupation: Bob Bryar’s “partner”; also charged with the duty of keeping Bob sane because of Gerard and his misadventures; a.k.a The Deputy chief**  
**Age: 28**

"Uhh.... Do I even want to know what happened to you in the past two hours?” He asked as Jon stopped in front of him, eyebrow raised and a smile on his face. He sniffed the air then, faster than a whiplash, rubbed Gerard’s hair and brought away his slightly damp hand.

“How’d your hair get wet, dude? Bob dump ice water on you? And to answer your question, not unless you want some seriously vivid mental images. I mean, I wouldn’t mind but I don’t think your brain could handle them. ” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and Gerard covered his ears, shaking his head. Jon laughed at him and clapped his back which told Gerard that the danger of being mentally scarred so badly not even mind bleach would help him forget had passed.

“I showered.” He shrugged and watched Jon’s eyes widen to the size of records before he pulled out his phone and ran towards Bob’s office. Gerard snorted and rolled his eyes. Whatever; he didn’t MIND being clean, in fact after a while, he kind of enjoyed it, but with everyone freaking out it was a bit annoying. Besides, hair didn’t get dirty. He smiled and walked through the door and down the steps in the familiar, mental, trench to the small, hole-in-the-wall cafe that he loved so much. Their prices were good, their coffee better than even Starbucks’ and they played great music. Oh how he loved it. The crisp Jersey air made his tired body feel a bit better but a hot cup of coffee would feel even better and he quickened his pace at the thought, feeling like a puppy looking for a treat.

‘ _Unscripted_ ’ was a small coffee shop that was run by a bunch of college students, a few people Gerard knew, and a few other people, totaling ten all together, though there were three or four at any given time. It was a cozy little place; smooth cream walls that had been interrupted by graphic paintings in the corners of bats, ghosts, a dragon or two and a whole wall dedicated to a haunted house and the lightening storm around it. Some people didn’t like it because it was ‘immature’ but the coffee tasted better, it was better priced and he had painted those drawings himself so fuck what other people thought. Soft lighting that calmed hassled students down and caffeine-deprived people, like him, from feeling like their heads were going to split from the overly bright light. The tables were oak coloured and there was a bar at the left side of the cafe, smaller tables scattered throughout the space. Like the lighting, they weren’t small enough to be uncomfortable and they weren’t close enough to make you feel boxed in. He loved this place. He looked up when he felt a raindrop then another and another falling against his head and face.“Shit...” was all he said before pulling on his hood and zipping his jacket up then starting to jog the two blocks he had to go before the May downpour would soak him to his bones. The rain started to come down a bit faster but not a torrential down pour. At least not yet and if his luck was going to hold onto the bad luck streak, then he would be soaked either before he got to Unscripted or when he was walking back and then got sick.

Like the lighting, they weren’t small enough to be uncomfortable and they weren’t close enough to make you feel boxed in. He loved this place. He looked up when he felt a raindrop then another and another falling against his head and face.“Shit...” was all he said before pulling on his hood and zipping his jacket up then starting to jog the two blocks he had to go before the May downpour would soak him to his bones. The rain started to come down a bit faster but not a torrential down pour. At least not yet and if his luck was going to hold onto the bad luck streak, then he would be soaked either before he got to Unscripted or when he was walking back and then got sick.

“Shit...” was all he said before pulling on his hood and zipping his jacket up then starting to jog the two blocks he had to go before the May downpour would soak him to his bones. The rain started to come down a bit faster but not a torrential downpour. At least not yet and if his luck was going to hold onto the bad luck streak, then he would be soaked either before he got to Unscripted or when he was walking back and then got sick.

Hopefuly Bob would let Brendon or Jon come down to the small cafe and they could be sane people and DRIVE. He wasn’t usually one to be unreasonable and forgetful, most days when ut didn’t relate to a case, but he would blame that on his insomnia and lack of coffee. As Bob and all his friends put it, ‘ _Being an insane over worked detective and working hours that no one else would keep._ ’ Or as Mikey would say, “ _You’re insane, plain and simple._ ” He cracked a smile at that and began to run, even though his habit as a smoker wouldn’t help much on that and his lungs would try to kill him later but he would take that over sopping wet, coffee deprived, sick and then losing time on the McCracken case. THAT would suck. A lot.

The wooden sign that hung outside the door written in cursive and small print starting at the top fading away before arriving at the bold, cursive name of _Unscripted_ ’. God, he loved this place. He pushed open the door and took a moment to breathe in the caffeine steam and to get his breath back and what better to do that then with coffee steam? As Gerard straightened, he noticed Brendon talking with a very short kid, maybe a college kid or someone who recently graduated who was looking to join the force? He had seen the pile for paperwork for people’s applications to join the force and or to be an intern for NJPD. He shook his head and went up to the counter where Rusty, a fiery ginger, he was pretty sure Rusty was a brunette though underneath the fire red hair, smile-smirked at him and raised an eyebrow.

“Same as always, Gerard?” He only nodded, a sheepish smile gracing his pale features and drummed his bitten-down nails on the counter top as he waited and looked at, okay maybe stared at, the kid Brendon was talking to. His back was to Gerard, making it less awkward, and as Gerard was already a fairly awkward person, this was a good thing. Brendon was too deep in the conversation to notice the staring of Gerard to the possibly underage kid and even though he was only twenty-nine, the kid was probably five years his junior, at least. He had a nice figure, though, kind of girlish but definitely male. He wore a patched black leather jacket, black converse, and blue jeans that seemed faded with age. His hair was curling around his ears and almost came up to Gerard’s own height but he was a bit shorter, arriving only at his ear. His hair was raven black, like Gerard’s own dyed hair but his seemed to be natural. He also had a scorpion on his neck and Gerard couldn’t stop thinking about that and how he looked REALLY good. Again, three years, if not seven years, his junior but he just kept staring at him, trying to figure out everything he could from the mystery kid’s tensed shoulders and the way that he tucked his hair behind an ear, nodding. The way he held himself though as if expecting to be attacked, the way he couldn’t keep still intrigued Gerard the most.God, he was such a creep and this was not helpful and Gerard really needed to stop staring cause the kid was turning around, oh shit... In a heartbeat, Gerard turned around and hid his blush from everyone, aside from the table who was getting a wonderful and picturesque view of his blood stained cheeks and sopping wet everything. God, he must look like a drowned rat, come to think of it, he FELT like a half-drowned rat that had somehow survived such a saying and more like one that was headed towards being _dead_. Gerard shut his eyes and tried to ignore the feelings of the oppressive weight around him and tried to push it away, that empty feeling that no one was there. He felt a hand pressing something hot against his arm, the familiar smell of coffee and cream wafted towards his nose and opened his eyes, blinking away the nonrealistic stars and blurs as they danced in the light. Rusty was there in front of him, smiling a secret that only he would know. Or ever know, honestly.

Gerard raised an eyebrow but he wasn’t Mikey and he wouldn’t understand what he was going to convey with a tilt of the brow or a minor change in his facial expression. There was an issue in him finding a boyfriend and/or partner that could put up with him, read his facial expressions and was possibly, hopefully, as ‘crazy’ as him. Mikey and Ray and the others whom he told his woes too, not that in itself was often either, but they told him that it would just take time and to be patient, as God forbid there comes another ‘Gerard’, male or female. Then, according to them, the world would be ending.

“Rough morning?” The kid who was talking to Brendon was talking to him, eyes on his bandaged finers. He hadn’t even heard him come over! Oh God, what the hell was supposed to do? Oh shit, oh shit, oh SHIT, his awkwardness was starting to make him freeze... CRAP!! With this running through his mind, Gerard’s body went into defense mode and began to do the only thing that ever worked. He rambled. “Uh, well depends on what you mean as a rough morning. Cause there was this one time I tried to balance six different mugs of coffee with a stack of files and wound up spilling the coffee and the files all over myself when my little brother, Mikey, tried to answer his phone and wasn’t looking where he was going and he completely ruined my day because after we cleaned up my boss,

“Uh, well depends on what you mean as a rough morning. Cause there was this one time I tried to balance six different mugs of coffee with a stack of files and wound up spilling the coffee and the files all over myself when my little brother, Mikey, tried to answer his phone and wasn’t looking where he was going and he completely ruined my day because after we cleaned up my boss, Bob and the mayor, well and his assistants, made me go and SHOWER. God, that was awful.” He shivered the thought and tried to keep a passive face but that one failed epically. The kid laughed, trying to stifle it and failing, doubling over in his fit, trying to not die as he laughed at Gerard. Aaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnnnnndddddddddddddddd there went the little self-preservation and little non-awkwardness flew right out the window. What was the word? Oh, right. It defenestrated itself right off of Mount Everest. He was pretty sure some poor pack of Sherpa’s somewhere

Aaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnnnnndddddddddddddddd there went the little self-preservation and little non-awkwardness flew right out the window. What was the word? Oh, right. It defenestrated itself right off of Mount Everest. He was pretty sure some poor pack of Sherpa’s somewhere were panicking because his non-awkwardness and self-preservation and basically anything that would have saved Gerard from going up in flames, were running around in fear that their gods were angry with the as the small shower of emotions came flying at them, flaming chunks of his brain probably. Oh, the joys of being him and Gerard was REALLY beginning to curse his self-defence mechanism of curling up into a shell and letting his limbs turn to stone and how his mouth contently didn’t and ran like a rabbit from a hawk.“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Oh my god, I’m sorry but that-that... You...” He doubled over again and Brendon got up, moving over towards them and helping the kid up as he continued to laugh.“Uh-huh. I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that you told him the ‘Disastrous-Coffee-And- File’ story that resulted in you getting a shower, god forbid on that part?” Brendon smirked, sarcasm biting like a

“Uh-huh. I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that you told him the ‘Disastrous-Coffee-And- File’ story that resulted in you getting a shower, god forbid on that part?” Brendon smirked, sarcasm biting like a rapid dog and then, seeming to notice Gerard’s horror-stricken face, nodded over towards Mikey and Spencer. The duo were sitting in a corner, pouring over papers that Gerard suddenly felt a keen interest in and the best part was that it was all the way across the room and far away from the kid and Brendon and he needed to go. About, oh, four minutes ago. His watch told him so. Okay, if he did wear a watch, it would tell him so.

“Hey, so yeah... I’m just going to go and help Spencer and Mikey with that case and... Yeah. Nice to meet you.” And with that, he picked up his coffee and fled to the pair, praying to whatever Deity that may or may not exist that the Kid, as Gerard, in his awkwardness, had not asked his name, or his age so he was probably even more perverted then he had originally thought cause he was probably nineteen, that he would forget him. Even if he wanted to learn more about The Kid, he had McCracken to worry about. Mikey looked up at him from underneath his red beanie and over top his black-rimmed glasses, brown hair sticking from underneath the hat. He wore a Misfits shirt, black hoodie and blue jeans that looked pretty new but Gerard just knew that they hadn’t been worn in oh... Six months? Mikey and he often had piles of clothes that buried new clothes or anything else really, all around their rooms. Guessing from his obvious casual ‘ _I just_ _rolled out of bed_ ’ look that Mikey hadn’t been to the office yet.

Whenever their mother visited one of their houses, she would ‘tsk’ at them, bundle EVERYTHING, even the clothes off their backs, boxers are included as such items, and leave them standing naked in the middle of the room and walk off to the laundry room. In honesty, it was pretty funny. Unless it happened to the other who had been laughing at his brother then they were BOTH naked and when there was no sex involved, at least for Mikey who had a very involved sex life, then it was humiliating. Especially when they were home for Christmas and she stole their clothing, forcing them to remain in the basement, not that was a bad place to be, but still. Nakedness, no sex, your equally naked, or unfairly clothed, brother pouting/seething/not caring or laughing at your humiliation. Even with as close a relationship as they had, there were some parts of your older/younger brother you did not want to see. Though Mikey would just grab a comic book and sit cross-legged on the floor as Gerard put up with being naked and or just didn’t care and would read one himself. Through this, Donna Way, apparently, was attempting to teach her sons a lesson in hygiene BUT that was NEVER going to stick anyways, they put up with the nakedness, slight awkwardness, and humiliation. In the end, it was pretty funny.

“Hey. What’s up?” His voice was flat and his face expressionless but his eyebrow was raised in a way that said that he was interested and that he wanted to know what was eating Gerard as his eyebrow or lips were set in a way that showed the infamous ‘ _“x” is eating me and I am going to die because it won’t stop._ ’

 **Name: Michael James Way (Mikey)**  
**Occupation: Working as an intern for Spencer Smith, a Prosecutor that most people have a right to fear**  
**Age: 22**

“Ugh...” was all he said and let his head land with a loud ‘thunk’ on the hard table and felt Mikey take his coffee before it spilt all over the papers and heard him take a sip before placing back within Gerard’s reach. He felt Spencer tap his head with a pen and raised it so his chin was propped up and staring at the man, his reading glasses in between two fingers as they rotated slowly, like little two mirrors into a new world that could only ever be a clear focus when seen in just the right light. Speaking of light, the light from above them was shining through them and making it go into his poor eyes.

“What’s eating you?” He placed this question more towards Mikey, not looking up from his case files.

“Huh, well apparently my idiotic older brother has gotten into some form of trouble.” He made a face and leaned closer to Gerard, sniffing his older brother’s hair, nose wrinkling slightly and his glasses sliding down his nose again. Mikey blinked, ran his fingers through Gerard’s hair. He looked at his slightly damp hand then ran both hands through the damp hair, mussing it, then patting his brother’s shoulder sympathetically, flopped down beside him, a dramatic sigh leaving his lungs. Gerard shrugged a bit and quirked his eyebrow down a centimeter.

“What happened that caused my free slave labour and his brother to suddenly become so depressed? Did they run out of coffee? No, wait. If that happened either one or both of you would be dead by now, so it’s not that. Maybe it’s the fact that Gerard is sopping wet and is going to die if he messes up the papers by getting them wet. Well, then I would lose my free slave labour and then I’d be bored, so it’s not that either. Um... Maybe that it’s raining and you two really don’t like water.” Spencer looked down at the two, clearly enjoying the guessing game. Gerard’s eyes took into account, from the fraction they rose to stare from underneath his bangs, Spencer’s combed down hair and yet the spark in his eyes showed that he and Jon had a very fun time. God damn it, was everyone having sex but him? Well, in honesty he hadn’t had sex in like... five hundred years but still. What the fuck?

 **Name: Spencer Smith**  
**Occupation: Prosecutor that many had a tendency to under estimate; Not a man to be messed with**  
**Age: 30**

“Close on that one, Spencer. Gee took a shower.” Mikey mumbled, stealing Gerard’s wallet and standing, walking over to the counter and smiling at Rusty, who raised an eyebrow, rolled his eyes but smiled back, well more like smirked and patted his face like their grandmother and laughed when he scowled at him skipping away. His best friend, Alicia, leaned against the counter and smiled, and the pair talked easily like she hadn’t broken Mikey’s heart about a year ago and he hadn’t almost drunk himself to death when she told him she wasn’t interested in dating. Alicia herself had broken up with Lindsey, yet somehow remained close friends with her, and when Mikey quit trying to kill himself through alcohol but didn’t quit alcohol entirely, about ten months later, they had a somewhat stable relationship going. Mikey was still in love and Alicia, well… He wasn’t sure where she was. Lindsey was pretty nice herself and Gerard had known her for a few years in school until he took up detective work and after a few years of school for that landed himself a job in NJPD. After that, the rest was history. And about twenty different partners. Over four years. This was pathetic.

“Huh, you, the infamous hygiene hating Gerard Way, took a fucking shower. Let God be praised because he apparently he does exist.”

“How do you figure that one?” Gerard snorted, laughter escaping him even as he failed to hold it back. It wasn’t his usual laughter, no, it was more a dry, sarcastic bark with an evil twist and venom edge to it, a knife cut through obvious disbelief.

“Gee, you took a shower. A _shower_. That is as likely, as oh, Wentz getting in your pants.”

“You wanna bet?” Brendon shouted across the room, somehow hearing that but not Gerard when he was telling him to file something for him as Gerard himself was busy. The fact remained he and Wentz DESPISED each other, though they could get along, they just chose not to. Wentz was funny to watch in the end and it was REALLY funny when he, Patrick and Brian went to Chicago and...

Well, to make a long and harrowing story short, Pete was kidnapped by some very disturbed people when he drank Brian’s beer and was left unattended for about an hour whilst the pair went to a meeting, Brian and Patrick went looking for him, Brian was taken and Patrick couldn’t find either of them, and called Gerard to, quote, “ _Get your skinny ass to Chicago NOW and find Pete and Brian because I can’t find either of them and if I don’t you and I are going to die_!” Needless to say, he had found the pair and Pete met some chick. The rest was pretty self-explanatory; Wentz flirts when he’s just come from life endangering situations and almost got killed, AGAIN, when the girl turned out to be some gang member’s ‘girl’, herself who had been coming onto Pete, and thus the reason why Pete was never left unattended with alcohol or anything else really for longer than a half hour when in an unfamiliar city. Gerard, having replayed this memory as Spencer went quiet, smirked and pushed his chin up and sat up straight, glancing at the clock. His eyes, though, completely ignored his brain’s order of checking the time and looked around the room, searching faces and clothes.

Brendon and the Kid were nowhere in sight when Gerard looked around again; they must have left while his mind was playing through the memory. Something about that Kid, even if he was way too young for anything for Gerard to be remotely interested in, he was itching to figure him out. He had talked to him ONCE and he had already implanted himself in his brain. He was strange, new and interesting and the detective wanted to figure out every piece of this puzzle, find out how he ticked and then put him back together again, hopefully carefully and painlessly. His brain finally got back on track and skipped over the rest of the boring and uninteresting people for the clock on the wall.

“Oh, god damn it... I have to leave for paperwork. God, I feel a headache coming on.” Mikey, as he approached the table with his coffee and having no sympathy for his clearing hurting elder brother, shrugged and nudged him out of his seat with bony hips and sharp elbows, causing Gerard to land on his ass and glare up at his younger, and soon to be dead, brother, who blinked down at him with an innocent face.

“What? You weren’t going to move anytime soon if you were going to complain and become a diva, so I helped you out. Now go and get some more coffee, because you look about half dead right now with a side of drowned and miserable, and coffee makes that better. Well, so does sex but you bury yourself in work.” He shrugged and sipped his coffee. Gerard scowled, swiped his wallet back, checked his phone and stood, remembering that he promised Bob that he would get him coffee and followed Mikey’s advice and bought himself some as well. It was a long run in the rain and he really wanted to maintain SOME kind of body heat. With this gloomy thought in the front of his mind, Gerard paid for both drinks then began to jog back to the station; on the bright side the rain had lightened up, but on the down side it was still a New Jersey storm and those were the worst. Reasoning behind this accusation? New Jersey was a bi-polar female honey badger who was pregnant and off her medication and, as the YouTube video had so rightly put it, “Honey Badger don’t give a shit.” A New Jersey rain could be a slight drizzle one minute, the next you would be flooded and trying to keep your shoes dry as possible by the oncoming mini-flood by standing on a blue post box. The next day it could be below forty when all the rest of the week was a pleasant low seventy, high sixty.

‘ _Honestly, getting real tired of your shit, NJ._ ’ Gerard thought bitterly as he glared at the sky from underneath soggy bangs.

In apparent retaliation, Mother Nature made it rain even harder, if that was fucking possible at this point. As he started to run, it felt as though a million tiny fingers and hands slapped him, bearing down on his skin and most likely bruising him. God, he REALLY hated the weather. He stopped underneath a bus stop for a moment to warm his freezing fingers and make sure the coffee hadn’t gotten too cold but it was still piping hot. Thank God for Rusty and his amazing coffee abilities. He was getting stressed and he had several, very valid reasons.

Well mainly the stress of finding McCracken as the body count piled and everything was either cold, dead or in another country. Sometimes the trail and others the informant who he needed to find before everything horrible that had happened so far multiplied and then they were all fucked over. God, Bert McCracken, he was going to strangle him when he got his hands on him. With Gerard, there was never ‘if’ when it came to a case. It was always down to ‘when’. Several of those that he had sacked had called him the ‘Storm of the Underworld’ because when he got a case, he stopped at practically NOTHING to make sure he solved it. Criminals did well to try and not stand in his way or he would bring them down.

“Hey punk, if you’re not going to get on the bus, get moving.” An old man growled, tapping Gerard’s leg with a walking stick. That brought Gerard back to the present and he mumbled some apologies before fleeing, literally, for the station and diving for the door as it started to close behind one of the other cops on duty. Well, it turned out that ‘cop’ was Patrick, and with him, Pete and Brian.

“Oh god, sorry Gerard! I didn’t see you. Are you okay?” Patrick asked, his blonde hair miraculously dry, a nice jacket over his button down white shirt, that looked strangely fitting on him, and dress pants covered his legs. He wore converse, the old ones that fit him like a second skin, and the defining black rimmed square glasses were gone threw Gerard a bit but that just meant he was wearing contacts. His side burns had been trimmed a bit but other than that he looked pretty normal.

 **Name: Patrick Von Stump**  
**Occupation: Secretary to Brian Schechter**  
**Age: 27**

Pete Wentz wore black dress pants, an actual button down shirt, leaving the top button undone, a purple hoodie over top his cutting blazer and black hair sticking up awkwardly a bit but otherwise pretty normal looking. Or at least, as normal as Pete Wentz would ever get. Brian looked exhausted; his earrings were gone and his tattoos were covered by a nice blazer and white oxford, his black hair slightly gelled to make it behave. He wore a set of fancy black and grey pinstripe pants that he made look good and deadly looking loafers. Pete bounced up and down like he was made of sugar, wisely staying away from Gerard and his coffee as he really didn’t want to make Gerard spill his life source, get pissed off and then kill him.

 **Name: Pete Wentz**  
**Occupation: Personal Assistant/bodyguard for Brian Schechter**  
**Age: 28**

“Gerard... “ Brian paused and Pete’s mad grin went wider, revealing perfect teeth, a set of sharp canines, and his dimples, muttered something in his ear. Brian nodded and blinked, turning his head to him, too tired to be cursing, pissed off and anything else really. Gerard knew such a feeling and felt pity to the over worked man.

“Come with me. Bob wants you. Now.” Brain yawned, before heading towards Bob’s office.

 **Name: Brian Schechter**  
**Occupation: Used to be a cop before he went into politics; Presently Governor of New Jersey for three years**  
**Age: 34**

Gerard, noticing how excited Pete looked and how he was practically bouncing off the fucking wall and the predatory, practically feral, look Brian was giving his steaming coffee and Bob’s untouched coffee, feared for his own, and his coffee’s, life span. With this in mind, he slid over to Patrick, who seemed to be a bit more awake then the other two but that didn’t really mean much when the trio had just come from a meeting with the city council. Brian hated them and they hated him but he had done a damn good job of pretty much keeping New Jersey in order so they couldn’t do much.

“Hey, Patrick, has Pete had an excessive amount of sugar today? Or been drugged?” Patrick, usually the more sane of the two, just smiled and shrugged. Gerard decided right then and there that he REALLY didn’t like that smile. It was the smile that Patrick got when he was planning on teasing someone, plotting their death mentally while he just appeared laid back or he was just with holding valuable information. OR all three at once. God damn it, Gerard needed to know! This was his, and pretty much anyone within the vicinity of Pete Wentz on a sugar rush, well being in danger.

“Oh, Pete hasn’t had a lot of sugar. He’s just excited about something.” At this, Pete let out a mad cackle and ran ahead, expertly dodging people and actually showed off and did a back hand spring to the closed door to Bob’s office, grin disappearing and a solemn mask replacing it, deep brown eyes serious. An expression rarely ever witnessed by Gerard on that man’s face.

‘ _Someone call the presses..._ ’ He opened the door and said, voice deadly serious,

“Gerard, good luck.” And watched as the detective edged inside the room. There was Bob, sitting behind his desk, Brendon and Jon... And the kid from the coffee shop?

“God damn it, Wentz! You worked me up over a fucking intern.” Pete’s cackle could be heard as Brain opened the door, putting his earrings in and rolling his eyes at his bodyguards/assistant’s clear insanity. Gerard shook his head at his own gullibility and handed Bob his five o’clock caffeine. This was going to be another long night.

“Intern? Did he just call me a fucking intern? Fuck you, jack ass! Seriously, I know I’m on the short side, but honestly, I’m not that short!” Brendon patted the kid’s head and Gerard quickly turned around and went to amend his statement before he pissed off an important figure. Again.

“I’m sorry! It’s just that you are pretty short and I saw you at the coffee shop with Brendon and I thought you were some new intern he was talking to before you got thrown into the insanity that is this police department.” The kid rolled his eyes. They were dark, almost black and Gerard had no trouble looking him straight in the eyes.

“Gerard, meet Frank Iero.”

 **Name: Frank Iero**  
**Occupation: Police officer for four years, Detective for two years**  
**Age: 27**

“Frank, this is Gerard. By the power invested in me, I now pronounce you two partners for-fucking-ever.” Brain said, stealing Gerard’s coffee gladly as the two men looked at the other. Hazel searched for the answer in ink and inky blackness invaded the brown-hazel, stripping Gerard to his core from a look of swirling emotion. Okay, whatever energy he had on the McCracken case he was officially exerting on this kid.

  **< Aaaaaannnnnnnnnnddddddd now apperantly Gerard Way's new partner... God save us all.>**

 “Gerard, I swear to God, you lose Frank and I will kill you.” Brian growled, eyes dark. Both men nodded, clearly understanding the threat and shook hands. This could be an interesting partnership. Frank looked pretty skinny but he smelled like cigarettes and coffee and something underneath that was spicy and almost there but Gerard couldn’t place it. He wore the same thing from before, meaning he was a detective as well, and judging from Brendon’s grin, this is what he meant. Around Frank’s neck though was a badge on a chain and around his left hand were beads. Wooden beads. Rosary beads. Well, shit. Gerard had another partner who was going to label him as a blasphemous atheist. And he liked the sight of this kid too. God damn it!“Alright, Gerard, go and take Frank to your place or something, take the files you need and work with him to figure out a strategy to bring McCracken down. Now, get the hell out of my office!” the new partners nodded and hurried to Gerard’s office and he grabbed his laptop, flash drive and all the current files he had on McCracken.

“Alright, Gerard, go and take Frank to your place or something, take the files you need and work with him to figure out a strategy to bring McCracken down. Now, get the hell out of my office!” the new partners nodded and hurried to Gerard’s office and he grabbed his laptop, flash drive and all the current files he had on McCracken.  
Frank helped by putting them into a cardboard box and then shutting the lid on it and picking it up easily and Gerard’s gaze flicked unconsciously to the rosary beads around his hand. If Frank noticed, he didn’t say anything. Finally, everything Gerard had brought with him that day and all the files were in the box or in his backpack, he pulled on his other jacket and they duo headed out towards Gerard’s car.

Frank put the box in the back, Gerard’s backpack following it, and then as the rain started to fall hard enough to feel like ANVILS were raining on their heads, like in the Road Runner cartoons. Gerard started his blue Camero and blasted the heat, pulling out of the lot and blasting towards the interstate. Surprisingly, Frank seemed unbothered by it and instead turned on the radio, humming along with one of the songs. Gerard tried to keep his eyes on the road but something about those damn beads kept drawing his attention. Frank was rolling them in his hand now, palm against palm as he sang softly, if slightly off key. He grabbed his seat belt though as Gerard suddenly slammed on the brakes; traffic jam. They sat in the silence for a minute and just as Gerard turned to ask Frank about the beads, Frank said, with a half smile, a tease and a bite,

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“What, I wasn’t...”

Frank raised an eyebrow and Gerard deflated, immediately ending his fail attempt at explaining himself.

“Alright, I suck at stealth. Or at least, social stealth. It’s just one of my earlier partners was a really devout Catholic and well, let’s just say we didn’t get along. She left to be redistricted because she thought I was too insensitive, an atheist and, well all of them said I was an insane driver. I’m pretty sure that Bob will show you the list of words that my previous partners have used to describe me. Brain, Brendon, Pete, Patrick, Bob, and whoever else is keeping track, have used up the alphabet and have switched to numbers. Last I heard they were up to eighty.” Frank smiled and burst out laughing again, holding his sides as he looked at Gerard’s dumbfounded expression. He sobered up a few seconds later and straightened, facing Gerard so he could see him and not the boring cars as they all waited impatiently to move on.

“Okay, to set a few things straight. One, I’m not religious. I was born and raised Catholic but I just stopped believing late in my teenage years. Two, this rosary is one of the single most important things in my life. It was my mom’s...” He paused and trailed off, looking out into the rain. Gerard looked to the traffic jam, which wasn’t about to move in the next few minutes, and patted Frank’s shoulder. If he hadn’t been constricted by the seat belt then he would have hugged him but he doubted Frank wanted to be touched now.

“What made you, you know, stop believing? Did something happen?” He winced when Frank straightened and hastened to say,

“Oh, sorry... I- I just...” he stopped and collected his thoughts for a moment before explaining,

“Stop me if I’m prodding too much, okay? I’m really bad with, you know, social interaction, conversations, etc, etc.” Frank laughed again and looked down at his palm and forearm. It was then that Gerard noticed the long scar he had first thought was a life line underneath the beads, but it lead down his arm, disappearing down underneath the shadows of his jacket, just missing the arteries. He wondered what happened to Frank and even though he had only just met him, he felt a surge of anger towards the bastard who did it.

“It’s okay. Something happened and to me, if there had been a God, then it wouldn’t have happened. Not to me, not to anyone. I swear, if I ever catch him, I’m going to kill him. Laws be damned.”

“You mean ‘when’, Frank. If you’re going to be my partner, then you have to know that there are never any ‘ifs’. Only ‘when’.” Gerard said softly, accelerating as the jam started to clear up. He wanted to ask who ‘him’ was but with the anger that seemed to be building just beneath the surface of the small man made Gerard’s questions quiet and his tongue go dormant. He had a good idea anyways.

Frank smiled, soft, real. The rest of the car ride was passed in a strangely comfortable silence. Three exits, two turns, a street, and five songs later, they were at Gerard’s house. It was a nice one story, small house. It had a small yard that was fenced in, a front porch and it was secluded from the rest of the city. It still had the gritty smell but it also strangely worked with the rain as it fell. Frank whistled and nodded in appreciation. It cost a lot but his grandmother left him enough money to afford it; he shut out the painful memory quickly and focused on the present.

“Nice place.” Gerard shrugged and grabbed his backpack, Frank grabbed the files and they ran to the porch as the rain fell harshly on them, bruising them as if they had done their Mother a personal wrong.

“Marie! I’m home!” Gerard called as he opened the door and held it open for Frank and the files. Frank looked surprised and blinked twice.

“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend. Will she mind if I’m here? Or is she your daughter?” Before Gerard could correct him, and ask why he sounded a bit deflated, Frank got his answer. A german shepherd black lab mix puppy came barreling down the hall towards them, nails skittering on the wood floor as she raced towards them. Frank looked ecstatic and set down the box to let her sniff his fingers then scratch her ears and head gently, cooing softly. Her long tan tail wagged like crazy. Her eyes were bright chestnut, muzzle to body deep tan with her tail all tan and more Shepherd like in its ruffled and slightly curled than Lab. Her paws were black and her legs brown but she looked physically like a German shepherd. Either way, she looked down right adorable. Gerard rolled his eye sat his puppy’s ridiculousness and headed down the hall to the kitchen which lead into the den.

His bedroom was down the other hall to the left, behind the closed door and the basement right beside that. A guest room was on the opposite side, about the same size as his bed room but with not many people, family or other wise, spending the night as he usually crashed at their houses. There was the outside sliding door that lead to the backyard where he trained Marie and gardened. It was a very relaxing past time. In the den there was a T.V., a couch, two arm chairs, and almost a ton of books. Gerard was an insomniac so when he couldn’t sleep, he curled up with a book or a case file till his brain finally shut down and he was tired enough to sleep. There was also a fireplace and that was very useful in the freezing winter when he sat down to read in the ‘ _ungodly hours of the morning_ ’. Frank, Marie trotting after him, walked into the den and he set the box down on the floor, sitting down himself and pulling out a file. Gerard headed back to the kitchen and yelled over his shoulder,

“Want anything to eat or drink? I’ve got water, soda, milk, coffee, tea and I think maybe some leftovers.”

“Coffee, no cream or sugar!” Frank called back and he heard the rustling of papers that meant he was starting to look into the files. Good. This would hopefully go by quickly and then they could get onto planning. And talking; Gerard wanted to make his partnership with Frank work. Everyone else was transferred because he drove them away, he didn’t care about their personalities or what they really did. Call him an ass and let Oberon curse him because in the past two years all he’s cared about was his work. That and keeping his friends and family safe, his partner included, were all that mattered.

Gerard measured out the grinds, got out two mugs, made sure the milk hadn’t soured, measured out sugar and cream and waited for the coffee to start. He paced and worked about the kitchen a bit but there was nothing really for him to do and he smiled when the small light went off, notifying him that the delicious beverage was done and hurried to pour it and go back to his newest partner. Frank looked up when Gerard came into the den and his lips quirked into a smile, a real smile, and he gratefully took the mug, inhaling the steam and taking a long sip, seeming to savour the taste,

“I haven't had any coffee for the past four days. Brendon dragged me down to Unscripted so I could get a decent cup and then the rest of everything happened.” Frank laughed and Gerard automatically smiled, immediately putting ‘ _Making Frank Laugh_ ’ on his ‘ _List of Things to do Every Day_ ’.

“Well, let’s get started shall we?” Gerard said, pulling out a notebook and pen, starting to write new notes on details, evidence and people. Frank looked a bit shy for a moment before nodding to himself and diving head first into the work. This made Gerard smile and a feeling like hope come into his chest. Maybe this partnership would work after all. He really hoped it did. He had only spent about forty-five minutes with Frank, granted insulted him and probably brought up old memories but he really hoped this time he would make a friend and have a good partner. Frank grunted and shook his head suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence, then stole Gerard’s pen.

“McCracken doesn’t have just twelve guys around him at one time; he has at least twenty, not including body guards, so that’s thirty of his closest men always with him. Then everyone who answers to him in New York and Jersey alone, so that’s a grand total of about a hundred odd people. If you include those that he’s killed, then it goes down to about seventy.” He looked up at Gerard, whose eyebrow’s raised to his hairline, actually disappearing underneath his bangs as he stared at Frank.

“How do you know that?” Frank shrugged and hunkered down the slightest bit before saying easily,

“I’ve spent a lot of time on the subject of McCracken and his habits. Like I said in the car, when I find him, I’m going to strangle him. Laws be damned.” He shrugged again and Gerard settled back down to work himself but he could hear the lie as if it rang like an alarm clock in his ear. He decided not to push it. For now. His curiosity would be held in check as he buried himself in the case again but it wouldn't be long.

‘ _I barely know anything about you, Iero, but I_ will _find out everything, mark my words._ ’


	2. Moonlight doesn't always lead to romantice evenings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I DO NOT own the music or people  
> Thanks to those that waited for me to finish this but school... Anyways, on with the story!!  
> (If you like my writing, drop a comment and I'll update faster) 
> 
> -RR

Papers were scattered all around the duo, the small puppy lying on top of one but the two were too tired to move. They had given up on notes and ideas and were now just talking about everything. Gerard found out that Frank wasn’t so easy to read as he origainally portrayed, his past carefully sheilded by answers that souned almost reherased, easy. What he did find out was the Frank was born in Belliville and raised in Newark, his birthday was on Halloween. He got tattoos for important things in his life, smoked, loved coffee, was a neat freak, as compared Gerard, loved dogs and was currently twenty-seven. Frank found out about how Gerard was an artist, and he smoked and couldn’t get through a day without at least a gallon of coffee, depending on the day. He loved dogs as well, he was spazz, he was an insomniac, was disorganized, and he may or may not be crazy and was currently twenty-nine. Gerard also had a bad luck streak with partners a mile wide and, he privately admitted this to himself, he really didn’t want to lose Frank.

“Oh come on, don’t tell me your mom actually grounded you for not going to church,” Gerard said in disbelief but saw a brief flash of what looked like sadness in Frank’s eyes before he smiled easily and nodded.

“Yup. One time, I was, like, fifteen then and Dad almost had a cow when I got my first tattoo, my scorpion and nearly killed my uncle too, for giving me consent to get it; walked in, signed the papers and paid for everything. The funny and ironic part of that one is that Mom liked it, quite a bit. Dad laughed about it a few weeks later but still, pretty damn funny.”

Gerard looked out at the inviting patio where the moon light was shining and making the entire state of New Jersey look innocent, the grass glinting with left over raindrops as the storm passed, making it looked like little pearls. An innocent, quiet world. As if that could happen, but there were still pockets of innocence found in places just... Hard to find. Like a diamond in the ruff, that was in the ocean. Or the belly of Jaws, but whatever.

“Oh, no. I’m not going outside in that freezing cold weather.” Frank looked so resolute in his claim, too. Gerard would have to fix that.

“Really? You sure? Not even if I persuaded you?” Frank raised his eyebrows but shook his head, and Gerard noticed he got a bit defensive in his positioning, his body angled so that he could roll away. Gerard held up his hands and shook his head.

“Relax. I’m not about to altar boy you.” Frank looked affronted but he still smiled and laughed again. What he didn’t see was Gerard’s mouth curving into a wicked grin and then the next thing Frank knew was that he was on his back with Gerard tickling him. All over; underneath his ribs, his neck, his legs, arms, armpits, feet, stomach. Frank tried to bite his tongue, his lips pressed into a thin line in an attempt to keep from laughing and, well that failed, needless to say. Quite spectacularly.

“Say Uncle!” Gerard snapped playfully

“NEVER!!” Frank squealed, down-right squealed, when Gerard pressed his hand against his chest and tickled right underneath his pectorals. He smiled and dove in for the kill until Frank suddenly rolled them and landed on top, a triumphant grin on his face as they panted, giggles escaping in between wasted breath.

“Altar boy me? Really Gerard?” Gerard raised an eyebrow and shrugged a shoulder best his could in his current, pinned-underneath-Frank-Iero-and-why-the-hell-couldn’t-he-move-because-the-kid-was-skinnier-and-shorter-than-him-what-the-fuck, position. Frank suddenly looked thoughtful and said,

“Hey, that day when Brendon and I were drinking coffee, he said you came in covered in blood. The fuck was up with that?” He didn’t move and in fact, seemed to make himself pretty damn comfortable, going so far as to lay down on Gerard’s chest like he had known his for years, not six hours. Gerard though, found himself not really caring. With Frank’s hands on his chest, he could see the ‘HALLOWEEN’ written across the first joint of his fingers, ‘HALLO’ on his right, ‘WEEN’ on the left. On the second joint were ‘B-O-W-R’ and ‘O-K-O-M’. Gerard made a mental note to ask what they spelled out after he explained.

“Oh, it’s a part of the case that went wrong. I went undercover with a kid from my little brother’s bosses firm, who went as an altar boy, and they kinda didn’t like something he did and I had to rush in to be sure that the kid didn’t get hurt. That then escalated into a fight, though in my defence most of that blood wasn’t even mine. I’m just covered in bruises and I have a sore arm and side from those god damn idiots.” Frank brought a hand up and gently touched one of the few scratches on his face.

“What did you do to get those?” “Throwing oneself out a window is usually not advisable to one’s health. My back and arms got the worst of it though, and I’m pretty sure none of the shards got imbedded in my back when I rolled into the rose bushes. Which, thankfully didn’t have too many thorns, but that’s where the majority of the starches came from, at least were my face is concerned.” Gerard said offhandedly. Frank shook his head and sighed.

“You, Way, are insane.” Gerard raised an eyebrow and sighed, ready to lose another partner before they even got to know each other, for real. Honestly, he had only known the kid for a week and a half!

“You drive like you’re trying to break the speed of sound, your moods flip and from what I’ve heard from Brendon, your methods for solving cases aren’t exactly normal. You’re an ass to many people because you don’t like their style of working and you seem to know nothing of sensitivity, so say’s Brendon.”

Gerard closed his eyes and the somewhat comfortable feeling of earlier was disappearing, but when he opened them again, he saw Frank was smiling and knew his own face was painted with bewilderment. And people said HE was bi-polar.

“And dude, you have to be the most interesting person I have ever met.” He grinned gleefully ear to ear, teeth sharp and white. Gerard was suddenly reminded of a wolf, one that was hungry and ready to devour. His near black eyes sparked with mischief and something close to genuine happiness, one emotion that Gerard would never tire of seeing.

“Come on, I’m beat,” He found himself saying and Frank rolled off of him, helping him stand and looking kind of awkward and a bit dejected. “Uh... What should I do? Want me to call Brendon and see if he’ll give me a ride home again or something?”

“You could spend the night here. My bed is pretty big...” Soon as he said that, Frank raised an eyebrow, an impish smirk coming to his face. Gerard felt his face heating up and hurried to add,

“Oh God, I’m sorry I didn’t mean it like that... I mean, unless you took it another way, in which I meant that you could share the bed with me to sleep, then yes, I did mean it like that. I mean, I’m gay and most people when they come anywhere near me don’t really understand my meaning sometimes; like Brendon doesn’t really care and I swear he’s dating Ross, and if he isn’t he needs to because he’s ridiculously head over heels for the guy. I’ve known Toro since forever but some of my other male partners took it the wrong way and I didn’t have a chance to explain till after they stopped being my partner. Some of them were dicks anyways but I’m sorry if I just assumed something or other but the fact that I’m gay kind of turns people off when I offer to share my bed with them and they don’t understand what I meant. And I’m sounding really stupid aren’t I?”

Frank started laughing, trying to use the wall to support himself, only to slide down, and holding his sides, peals of laughter erupting from him.

“Gee,” He breathed, tears coming down his face as he finally got his breathing back under control and he was able to speak again without falling to pieces, a laughing mess again. 

"Part of the reason I stopped going to church was not because I was bi, but I stopped beliving a while ago.” Frank explained, giggling still. Gerard’s jaw would have dropped but he instead went for the ever eloquent, 

“What? Wait...What... Huh?” Frank giggled again and stood, wiping the tears away.

“I was sixteen when I figured it out. We had a newly ordained priest and I first thought he was handsome, you know for woman to be falling all over him. He was about your age actually. Anyways, I was kind of suspecting that I was bi, if not gay, for a while but I hadn’t really believed that anything was all powerful or any of that shit that said homosexuals would be smitted for living for a while. Also, Leviticus was bat shit crazy anyways, but that didn’t mean I agreed with the rest of the Bible. So, I just told my parents I stopped believing about two months later. They were pretty pissed I guess but they didn’t force me to go. They didn’t find out I was bi until about a year later.”

Frank had moved closer, standing about a foot away from Gerard, leaning against the door jam that connected the hallway to the living room, just close enough that Gerard could see something almost chaotic and practically feral racing through Frank’s eyes.

' _He’s like a book; he looks so easy to read then the pages are all torn and frayed... What is it?_ ’ But instead of voicing his thought, he asked,

“Are they oaky with it now?” Soon as he said that though, Gerard wished he hadn’t because Frank went stiff and his eyes became guarded, blank and Gerard knew that a mask of ‘Frank’ had been put up.

“They were. Got anything for me to wear, not to impose but I don’t really feel like sleeping in jeans.” Gerard, oblivious as he usually was, automatically noticed the stiff change in Frank’s posture and the obvious, about as subtle as a fucking anvil falling on your head change in subject but decided he would drop it for now. And the pre-tense, _were_.

“Yeah. And sorry again, too reiterate, I’m not the best as socializing or having conversations that don’t really retain to anything not related to a case.”

“Really? I never would have guessed.” Frank deadpanned but there was a hesitant smile so Gerard knew whilst Frank was nowhere near ready to tell or forgive him, he was alright and understanding at least. Well, he had made more progress at least then with any of his other partners. Honestly, he was surprised he didn’t have notches in his bedposts. As he led Frank to the bed room and gave him a pair of sweats and shirt, he noticed Frank looking around and raising an eyebrow.

“What? No notches above your head for every partner you’ve lost?” Gerard shook his head but Frank seemed to be a bit more relaxed.

“You are one confusing bastard, Gerard Way.” He smiled again as he said it, and Gerard smiled tentatively back. Frank himself had no room to talk though. In the six hours they had talked, Frank and Gerard found out that the other was just as a big a nerd as the other, loved music and shared many things in common but Frank didn’t talk about his child hood other then saying it was rough, short and his family often times didn’t have a lot of money so he wasn’t always the best dressed. He switched moods and was incredibly animate when he was speaking so Gerard often had to lean away to avoid getting elbowed in the face. 

But Gerard had to admit, he loved a challenge and he wanted to keep Frank so he was going to forgo all sanity on this one and dive straight in. Frank stripping off his shirt however distracted Gerard and he saw there were more tattoos on his back and upper arm; a grinning pumpkin in between his shoulder blades, twin revolvers on his lower back, ‘Keep the Faith’ on his shoulder blade and on his back was a Misfits logo, Revenge album. On the right side of his neck, there was a black scorpion and on the left were a pair of scissors, a banner in between the blades, though he wasn’t able to read it. Again Gerard felt that same burning desire that he always did whenever new evidence was in front of him but there was no way to get it without seriously pissing someone off or maybe even losing his job.

As he turned, Gerard saw the scar from earlier stretching up to his elbow, the rosary slowly unwinding and Frank coiling it protectively around his wrist. The questions burned in his mouth till he felt an almost physical burning sensation on the tip of his tongue.

“Do you have any more tattoo’s?” Gerard found himself asking.

“Hm? Oh yeah "N.J." inside my lip standing for New Jersey, _I wish I were a ghost_ around my right wrist,” he showed Gerard each one, then, “And portraits of my grandparents on both arms.” He twisted his head around slightly, pointing out each one.

‘ _God fucking damn it! Why can’t Frank be someone less interesting?!_ ’ He yelled internally, his thoughts raced around in the same manner they did when he was trying to figure out what was wrong with something.

‘ _Because then you’d get bored and chase him away._ ’ His conscious answered back, smugly. Could a conscious be smug? Maybe. Or maybe that was just the internal monologue of treacherous thoughts that seemed to rule his mind and sounded eerily similar to Mikey. Frank waved a hand in front of Gerard’s face, effectively bringing him away from his thoughts.

Apparently, his body had gone on auto-pilot and decided to get dressed, his pants, shirt and jacket on the ground, skeleton sweat pants and shirt on. Frank held the shirt as if it were poisonous; glaring at the fabric as if it had insulted his family. Gerard though saw that there were MORE tattoos on his new partner and again had to hold his curiosity in. A dove was on the lower left portion of his chest, an anchor on the lower pat of his bicep with the letters N.J or either side portaits of two different people, one of either arm. Those must be his grandparents. There was also a Mary, like the Virgin Mary on his lower left arm, almost covering the long scar an a pair of swallows on either hip. He then realized Frank was talking and tuned in.

"I don’t like sleeping with shirts on. I’m claustrophobic and the heat makes it worse.” He explained at Gerard’s confused stare. Huh, this night just got better and better. He could actually read what Gerard was trying to convey, after only a week and a half (not that Gerard was counting) of knowing him. This might just work out after all.

“Frank, it’s almost fucking Fall.” Granted, summer-fall weather wasn’t too bad but lately June and August seemed to have different ideas and while the day was hot as hell, the nights were turning to the frigid side of the thermometer. ‘ _So he would sleep without a shirt but he wouldn’t go outside to just watch the stars. I wonder why.._ ’

“How are you not frozen?” Gerard asked instead, sitting on the bed and watching Frank move around the other side, short stature but with surprising strength. Gerard tore his mind away from his internal monologue and paid attention to what his new partner was saying.

“I’m used to the cold. Besides, I don’t think my immune system will try to kill me if I’m warm enough.” Was all he said, half smile on his face. Gerard rolled his eyes and buried himself underneath the covers, feeling the bed dip almost unfamiliarly, as his sex life, according to his brother, was pathetic. The pair laid there in silence for a minute before Gerard heard the ‘clik-clak-clak-clik’ of claws on hardwood and just as he rolled over to warn Frank, heard,

“What the- Oof!” and rolled on his side, feeling a smirk grace his lips at the sight. Marie, who was no more than maybe twenty-five pounds, was sitting on Frank’s stomach, paws planted on his chest and tongue sticking out of her mouth as she smiled a doggy smile down at him and licked Frank’s face, sniffing his neck and face. Frank, having had the wind knocked out of him, didn’t do anything but pet her head a bit and try to shove her off.

“I think she wants you to move over, Frank. That’s usually where she sleeps.” Gerard laughed and grabbed a book off his side table, turning it to the page he remembered leaving off on and reading. He felt heat a bit closer to him, and it wasn’t Marie’s furry coat. Frank turned so his back was to Gerard and he flicked on the side lamp, then extracted himself from the warm covers to the light switch on the wall, flicked it off and practically ran to the bed again, the dim light from his bed side lamp his guide through disorganized piles of haphazard clothing. Gerard refrained from launching himself into the bed like he normally would have, as his warm spot may succumb to the icy fingers of the cold New Jersey air. Instead, he slipped into the covers and sighed with content as he was warm again.

“Night Gee, night Marie.” came Frank’s sleepy mumble and then his breathing tapered off into rising and falling. He wormed a bit closer to Gerard but he found he didn’t quite mind the extra warmth.

“Night Frankie, night Marie.” He muttered, opening his book and reading. Normally, Gerard’s insomnia kept him up till ungodly hours but with the heat of Frank’s body and today’s adventure’s catching up with him, Gerard marked his page, placed the book back on his side table and turned out the light, but he didn’t sleep automatically. Instead he watched the faint shafts of moonlight fall through the window and the curtain, falling across Marie, who was on the edge of the bed, stretched out contentedly, and Frankie, who was almost sound asleep beside him, warm and actually very comfortable. For once in a very long time, Gerard actually felt exhaustion seep into his bones and take him away into a dark subconscious world filled with question marks, laughter, tattoos, sunshine, and moonlight.

 

      ++++

 Gerard woke up to the feeling cold beside him... No Marie, no Frank. He bolted upright and looked around in worry, noting any disturbances; but there were only the rumpled covers and missing human and puppy. Gerard grabbed the gun he kept in his side table and slipped out of his room, down the hall with footsteps of a ghost. He flipped the safety off his standard issue SIG P228 and rounded the corner into the den, only to hear Frank singing Bon Jovi, ‘It’s My Life' in the kitchen.

"This ain’t a song for the broken-hearted, no silent prayer for the faith-departed. I ain’t gonna be another face in the crowd, you’re gonna hear my voice when I shout it out loud. It’s my life! It’s now or never, I ain’t gonna live forever, I just want to live while I’m alive. It's my life, my heart is like an open highway like Frankie said, I did it my way. I just wanna live while I’m alive. It’s my life." he paused for a moment, socked feet sliding around on the floor as he rustled through cabniets, hips swaying as he moved. He hummed for a moment before continuing, pulling down a set of coffee mugs.

"This is for the ones who stood their ground, For Tommy and Gina, who never backed down. Tomorrow’s getting harder, make no mistake luck ain’t even lucky, got to make your own breaks. It’s my life and it’s now or never!I  ain’t gonna live forever, I just wanna live while I’m alive. My heart is like an open highway, like Frankie said, I did it my way. I want to live while I’m alive ‘cause it’s my life... Better stand tall when they’re calling you out, don’t bend, don’t break, baby, don’t back down. It’s my life and it’s now or never, ‘cause I ain’t gonna live forever. I just want to live while I’m alive! It’s my life! My heart is like an open highway, like Frankie said, I did it my way. I just want to live while I’m alive. It’s my life, and it’s now or never ‘cause I ain’t gonna live forever! I just wanna live while I’m alive. It’s my life! My heart is like an open highway, like Frankie said I did it my way. I just want to live while I’m alive ‘cause it’s my life!"

Gerard leaned against the door frame, a smile on his face, arms crossed loosely across his chest, as he sang the last verses and chorus, then said,

“You have a pretty good voice, Frank.” His new partner literally jumped and spun on the spot, knife in hand before he relaxed and slumped against the counter, his weight resting on bent forearms and tension building in his legs. Frank was used to situations of surprise then...

“Jesus H, Gerard! Are you trying to give me heart attack?! That’s the last time I ever make YOU coffee.” He glared, eyes sharp as a hawk. Still not quite as bad as **THE STARE** but it was still slightly unsettling coupled with the way the small man’s body became so wound up he was tighter than a spring.

“Sorry, sorry. You made coffee?” He asked, surprised and trying to placate his new partner. Not ONE of his partners ever made coffee the right way nor did they get his order right. Well, there was one but... He forced that memory out of his head and closed his eyes, trying not to remember.

"Gerard? Gee? Are you alright?” Frank was right in front of him, worry lacing every word, annoyance apparently forgotten for the moment.

“Yeah, fine.” He snapped, then instantly regretted it when Frank moved back and shrugged but he had seen the flash of hurt.

“I’m sorry, Frank. It’s just a really bad memory came back, one I’d rather not remember.” Gerard added darkly, not sure if he wanted to break down and cry, punch the wall or run until his legs gave out underneath of him. Again.

“If you ever want to talk, I’m right here.” Frank said as he poured cream and sugar into the coffee; not enough to make it some latte colour, and still black enough that it was strong and bitter but just taking the edge off. He internally scoffed at his partners willingness to listen to him when he would stone wall him every time he himself tried to bring something from his past back. Gerard could understand the fear of feeling those emotions again but he let it go; when Frank wanted ot tell him, he would. He turned his attenion back to his partner.

“I think I love you.” Gerard muttered as he drank the precious liquid, eyes closed so he didn’t see Frank’s happy, genuine smile.

“Why thank you" he winked, giggling when Gerard blushed and attempted to bury his face in his coffee mug. Frank continued, "Coffee is ruined if it’s too sweet.” Gerard nodded in enthusiasm, a wide grin coming to his face and a manic glint to his hazel eyes.

“I like my coffee strong with milk and sugar but these days it's way overboard.” Frank cracked a smile and looked at the clock on the wall; quarter to seven.

“Hey, how long till we have to go to the station?”

“Uhh... Bob let’s me get in around eight thirty, sometimes nine if I’ve been working late and I don’t quite remember the time that I’m _actually_  supposed to be there. What’s up?” Frank’s demeanour changed instantly, from playful and mischievous to withdrawn and serious, even a bit downcast.

“Can we,” he cleared his throat as if he had caught something. “Can we visit my family?”

“Sure? When do you need to be there?”

“Oh, just a bit before seven thirty is fine, if that’s okay. Can we stop to get some flowers? My Mom and Aunt Stephanie always liked them.” He sounded wistful, a slightly somber light to his face.

“Sure, not a problem. Let’s get dressed quick and then head over.” Gerard smiled and Frank’s mouth twitched in a half smile before he downed the rest of his coffee, grabbed an apple, tossed another to Gerard, then stood and headed towards the bathroom. Gerard headed towards his room and dressed quickly, setting Frank’s clothes on the back of his chair so that he could find them before heading back down the hall. The sound of water was hitting the roof, meaning it was raining, but it didn’t sound like one of New Jersey’s famous down pours, yet, but just to be safe Gerard grabbed two jackets and an umbrella. If Frank’s immune system really wasn’t the greatest, as he said, then it would suck to get sick on this case.

Gerard leaned against the kitchen counter and munched on his apple, thought’s turning over in his head before he was pulled from them by a sharp nip on his socked ankle. Marie whined pitifully, sitting back on her haunches and looking at him with puppy eyes, but her teeth showed ever so slightly, as if to say, _How DARE you THINK of doing anything else, let alone eating, before you’ve fed me!?_

“Oh Marie, baby! I’m so sorry! I almost forgot that you haven’t eaten yet! Come on, let’s go and get some food in your stomach.” She yapped in agreement and Gerard pulled out his phone, quickly sending off a text to Mikey.

‘ _Mikes, can you come and walk Marie for me? Frank and I are going to visit his family and so have no time. Also, you owe me!! xoxo G._ ’

“Okay girl, Frank and I have to leave soon as he’s dressed so Mikey will come and walk you. Is that alright?” He asked as he opened the cupboard that held her food, some treats, and one or two toys that he may or may not have forgotten about and hid there because she was chewing them to death. He grabbed her usual kibble, then picked up her bowl and poured her breakfast. Marie ran to the living room, jumping on the back of the couch and yapping as the rain came down harder.

“Oh yeah. By the time Mikey gets here it’s going to be a lot lighter. Lucky you Marie.” Gerard called as he set her bowl down and moved out of the way as the mini brown, furry rocket came blasting into the kitchen, and skidding to a halt in front of the food. He chuckled and threw his apple core into the trash, downing the rest of his coffee, sighing in happiness.

“Ready?” Frank asked, as he came out of the hall, dressed and shaking his head dry of water. Gerard nodded and threw him a jacket; dark green, thick and warm with a high collar, hood and zipper. Gerard pulled on a pair of painted converse and laced them up, pulling his jeans around them.

“Come on; let’s go.” Gerard opened the door and opened the umbrella, letting Frank come right up next to him and share the wide brim of dry sanctuary and raced to his blue Camero S5.

“Getting real tired of your shit, NJ.” Frank grumbled, hunkered down in his seat as Gerard cranked up the heat and cursed under his breath as it took so long to start working. Frank started fiddling with the radio and the pair chatted amiably before Gerard’s phone started ringing and he glanced at it before tapping the Bluetooth option on his steering wheel, and yawned, needing more coffee to be fully functioning.

“Way here. What’s up?”

‘ _Gerard! It’s Brendon. Head down to the station, now! I’ve got some good news!_ ’ There was muffled shouting then a thud, a curse from Brendon, then the sound of scuffling, and Brendon’s voice came back. ‘ _Sorry, jack ass was being rude. Anyways, yeah. Get your asses down here, now._ ’

“Alright, we’re headed there now. We’ll be there in about twnety minutes.” Frank said in place of Gerard and ended the conversation.

“Are you okay with not seeing your family today?” Gerard asked, worry and guilt racking him.

“Huh? Oh yeah; it’s not exactly like they’ll miss me.” Greif and regret flitted across his face, but it was quickly covered with a smile and hard eyes.

“Come on. Let’s go and meet this son of a bitch.” Gerard nodded and with a smirk, down shifted and pressed the pedal down further, causing Frank to sit a bit straighter but he looked pretty relaxed... He smiled and nodded to himself, Frank was definitely a keeper. Mikey would have a cow with disbelief and Spencer would be merciless in his teasing. Oh god, Ray was going to have a panic attack. ‘ _This could be a hell of a lot more fun then I first realized._ ’ Gerard positively BEAMED and snickered evilly, Frank shooting him a worried look before they pulled into the station parking lot.

“Come on, Frank. Let’s go and find out what Brendon has for us.”

"Knowing him, it’s probably something connected to the McCracken case.” Frank’s face looked schooled into neutral, blank but Gerard was really good at reading people when it came to picking out lies and their real emotions and could read his eyes easily. He almost felt sorry for the poor guy they were about to interrogate. ALMOST. Jon beamed as they came in, looking a little better then drowned cats, but the rain had let up here so they weren’t soaked through all their clothes this time. Jon himself looked bruised, scraped and had his wrist wrapped but other than that he didn’t look too badly hurt.

“What happened?!” Frank asked, rushing forward as he looked the deputy over, Gerard right behind him.

“Oh, this is nothing. The perp decided to run and Brendon took a note from Gee’s book and followed him, then, well, I’ll take you too him.” Jon’s face now morphed to a dark glare and Gerard and Frank both felt a shiver go down their spines at the sight.

“What happened to him?”

“Like he said, he took a note from Gerard’s book of ‘ _Defying the Laws of Reason and Logic._ ’ I swear to God, I don’t know if I should shoot you, him, or the perp.” Bob’s rumble came from behind them, making the trio jump.

“Bryar! Stop doing that!” Jon said, smacking the blonde on the shoulder. Bob rolled his eyes and tossed Jon a set of keys.

“Just go before I set Schechter on the lot of you; He’s royally pissed off and the boy’s are already having a hell of a time trying to get him to sit still.” He cracked a smile and Jon rolled his eyes to the ceiling like it coud grant him any more patience to deal with the obvious insanity of the Chief and his men.

“Whatever; I’m taking Gerard and Frankie to see him so Frank doesn’t mother hen him to death when he comes back in tomorrow.” “Toro and Ross will kill him if he tries. I might as well.” Was all Bob said before he shrugged on his jacket and grabbed the key’s Jon threw at him without looking.

“Okay… I don’t know if I should be freaked out or awed by that…” Frank said quietly, eyes slightly wide, to Gerard as the trio headed back outside in the rain.

“Eh, Bobert always goes out for coffee runs this early so he can deal with the rest of us.”

"Because all of you are INSANE!” Jon snapped, the usually relaxed and laid back man obviously on edge, and dove for the backseat of the car soon as Gerard opened the doors, Frank and Gerad following his idea. Frank shook his hair like a dog and Gerard just ran his fingers through the already messy locks, making it stand up as if he had been zapped by lightning, like a cartoon character. Frank giggled as Gerard twisted around in his seat, keys still in hand, and glared at Jon.

“Oh, please. Like YOU haven’t done anything crazy in ALL your time here as an officer, Walker.” Jon shrugged and crossed his arms, sighing. “I just thought you would have toned it down at least since Grace-” His eyes widened comically and he slapped a hand over his mouth, as though he had let lose Russian nuclear laucnh codes, and Frank kept his own mouth shut as Gerard’s face shuttered, he turned back around and silently started the car. Frank turned on the radio and shifted awkwardly in his seat, before he turned to Jon and asked,

“When did Brendon get sent to the hospital? We talked to him not even twenty minutes ago; the fuck happened?”

“Brendon can explain it a hell of a lot better then I can; he was only semi-coherrent when I got him to the hospital so don’t be expecting much.” Gerard didn’t even twitch when Frank touched his arm about five minutes later, eyes not leaving the slick road in front of him, face impassive.

“Gee?” His eyes flicked to Frank for a second, blinked once then returned to the road. Frank held his tonuge but planned on grilling him later for answers, no matter how painful. Gerard, for once, actually drove at a normal speed and they arrived at the hospital with little trouble; no traffic jams or accidents, no sudden calls. Gerard’s phone remained omniously silent and other then the rock music playing in the background and the purr of the Camero’s engine, so was the car. Gerard parked near the front, the rain lighting up slightly, almost as if to grant the tense detective, worried partner and slightly guilty feeling deputy a safe passage.

Gerard shook his head and shut the door to that part of his mind; not again. He promised her… Frank, he could see from the corner of his eye, was staring at him, eyes hard, and underneath the chaotic swirl of emotion and thought was worry, pain, anger, and strangely, kindness. And a resolute set to his jaw. Oh, this could not bode well for him… Gerard didn’t know if he meant Frank, himself, or the both of them.

“Jamia!” Frank called soon as they were through the doors and having seemed to spot a familiar face.

**Name: Jamia Nestor**

**Occupation: Nurse for General Hospital in Newark, New Jersey since 2003**

**Age: 28**

“Francis Anthony Iero Junior, I swear if you’re sick again, I will personally put you in a coma.” Jamia was a petie, slender woman, dark hair pulled back in a braid, and wearing a nurses outfit.

“Gerard, Jon, this is Jamia Nestor. A good friend of mine and frequent bailer of my ass when I get sick.”

“Hello.” She smiled at the confused duo and then looked hard at Frank. “Are you sick? Are your lungs okay?” She sounded more worried than angry now.

“Yes, they’re fine Jam. I just need to see a friend; Brendon Urie, beat cop? Would have come in here about twenty minutes ago? Jon?” Frank turned ot Jon for answers, probably on his injuries. Before Jon could answer, Jamia was nodding and lead them over the central nurses station and handed Jon a sheath of paperwork before walking away. Frank followed her automatically, Gerard and Jon following him; Jon puzzling over the paper work, a scowl on his face and Gerard trying to sort out his emotions before he snapped at someone.

“How do you know Jamia? Other then obviously being sick a lot?” Jon asked Frank, who turned to look over his shoulder. Gerard saw his finger’s tighten over the rosary and his other hand tug the sleeve down a bit more to cover the scar there.

“We dated once, a few years ago in high school. She’s a good friend to have, she knows,” Frank paused for a moment before shaking his head and sighing heavily. Gerard, walking beside him, saw the deeply scored pain, misery and anger in his ink black eyes before they were swallowed up in the well.

“I know a lot about him.” Jamia finished, falling back for a moment to squeeze his hand, the one with the rosary, quickly, before releasing it and leading them to an elevator. She pressed a button ‘3’ and watched the floors as they moved upwards. Silence descended, not even Frank, who was usually a chatter box, at least from Gerard could tell, would talk. Jamia leaned close and squeezed his shoulder, surprising the detective. He turned slightly and saw her staring hard at him; she wanted to tell him something. He nodded minutely and she released her hold.

“Room 306, Frankie. I’ll catch up in a minute, I need to get pain killers for Brendon real fast. I’m pretty sure Toro and Ross are still there, making sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.” Frank cracked a smile and soon as the doors opened, Jon was talking at full speed, going off on soemthing that sounded like,

“That jack ass practically killed us! I mean, I thought Gee was a crazy enough driver, but once again, New Jersey has proved me wrong!” Frank was nodding in agreement and Gerard was about to follow them when Jamia grabbed his shoulder and spun him around, looking him hard in the eyes.

“Are you Frank’s new partner?” Gerard nodded, silent.

“Good; then take care of him otherwise I will come after you, mark my words, Way, and make sure you that you are in a coma. Frank has had enough shit in his life and he certaintly doesn’t need anymore. So you protect him and you take good care of him, because he sometimes forgets that he doesn’t have to shoudler life all by himself. Do I make myself clear?” For a short woman, she commanded a lot of power and Gerard nodded qucikly, eyes wide.

“Of course; I would never try to hurt Frank!” Gerard felt insulted that she would even suggest that; though his bad luck streak was pretty obvious…

“Good; I’ve heard of your reputation, Gerard, from Ray, and excuse me if I’m not entirely trusting you or sounding unfair, but don’t chase him off. You’ll find when Frank is interested in someone or soemthing, he never let’s go. Now go on and see to your friend.” She slapped his shoulder, playfully but Gerard still winced. The whole ‘jumping out a window’ idea from last week didn’t seem like too good an idea now… Jesus Christ, he hurt! He should probaby have Toro take a look at his back to be sure that nothing was infected. He nodded to himself and went down the hall, spotting Toro’s baby llama fluffy afro as he entered a room and jogged down the florescent white hall to catch up. Sure enough, the room was 306.

Gerard didn’t bother to knock and instead walked straight in; there were two beds, Brendon sitting on one of them, shoes, socks, shirt and jacket off as a guy with slightly scruffy brown hair pressed against his ribs and watched Brendon’s facial epressions. Brendon’s right eye had a faint black and purple ring around it, and the right side of his head was wet and matted as opposed to the left which was a bit fuller. His pupils were a bit blown and his left arm was wrapped in gauze and bandages, his right hand wrapped as well, his finger’s twitching slightly as the scruffy haired nurse pressed at a particullary nasty bruise.

“Seriously, what the fuck, Brendon! We talked not even twenty minutes ago! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Frank snapped at Brendon, eyes daggers. Gerard winced when he saw a needle sticking out of his arm, Brendon artfully sheilding it with his other hand as he saw Gerard’s face paling.

“I hate hospitals. What’d you do, break down the door by driving the car through it?” Brendon chuckled and shook his head.

“Nah, jumped off a building to another roof, missed but I landed on the fire escape. The perp stopped to see if I was dead but then I got up and pinned him. Been pretty much riding the adrenaline rush since.” “Brendon, what the fuck is wrong with you? Seriously, what the fuck?!” Frank sounded exasperated, Gerard grunting in agreement and Brendon shrugged, the nurse scowling at him as he moved.

"I needed to catch the bastard, didn’t I? Anyways, I took a few Tylenol, that worked for a while but by the time I got here, I pretty much riding off of adrenaline. Ryan here fixed me up pretty well though. Besides, I don’t even have a major conscussion; just a slight bump, a scrape on the side of my head and a few bruised ribs.”

“Don’t forget to mention the bloody knuckles, the long gash on your left arm, partical black eye, and that ‘bump’ is a slight concussion so don’t go jumping off of anymore buildings.” Ray scolded and Ryan finished with his ribs, taping a few cuts and glaring at Brendon.

**Name: Ryan Ross**

**Occupation: Head nurse to Ray Toro; is often seen fixing up Brendon Urie**

**Age: 26**

“How else would I get to see you?” Ryan blushed and smacked Brendon’s good shoulder, ducking his head and returned to cleaning his knuckles.

“Hey, after you’re done fixing me, want to go and get some coffee?” Ryan looked surprised, shrugged and started tying off a bandage, mumbling,

“As long as you promise to not come back in so many pieces next time.” Brendon beamed and Ryan rolled his eyes as Ray cut in.

“Right, and I seriously worry if we should even try anymore, because you keep coming back here in pieces.” Ryan rolled his eyes again and Gerard nodded in agreement. Frank stood, slapping Brendon’s shoulder.

**Name: Ray Toro**

**Occupation: Head doctor of his department; is often seen fixing up cops from NJPD**

**Age: 29**

 “Seriously, what in the name of sanity would make you do something like that? This isn’t a movie or a comic book, Brendon.” Frank scolded, arms crossed, though he looked seconds from mother-henning the other man to death. 

“Frank’s right. I’m, according to pretty much everyone on the force, pretty much insane and I don’t even do crazy stunts like that!” Gerard could feel his shoulder and back throbbing though as he said that, face twisted slightly, and winced again as Toro patted his back, almost in sympathy, thinking it was caffiene depletion. Frank though, seemed to have a razor sharp memory and even sharper eyes, his attention turning to him fully.

“Gerard, what’s wrong? Is it your back? Why didn't you come in a week ago?” Ray rounded on him now, eyebrows raised high and arms crossed.

"What happened to you a week ago and _WHY_ didn’t you come to see me almost immediately?”

“He jumped out of a window.” Jon, Brendon and Frank said in unison, and Ray pushed Gerard over to the second bed, glare level and silently commanding.

“Strip; shirt, jacket, off. Now.” He snapped and Gerard qucikly complied; he may have known Ray for years, but when his friend was in ‘ _Doctor-I-will-kill-you-if-you-don’t-listen-to-me-so-you-can-get-better_ ’ mode, and not his usual sympathetic and relaxed, at least better bed side manner, mode, it was smart to listen to him. Gerard winced as he pulled his shoulders back slightly to take off his jacket, then again up and over his head to remove his shirt.

“Jesus Gerard, what the fuck were you wearing? Silk? Paper? Hell, nothing?”

“Uh, A cotton shirt and I left my jacket behind. They were firing at me! Besides, I had to pull the kid with me, and he may be stick skinny, he was heavy! Knocked the wind right out of me. Anyways, I took a shower soon as I got back to the station, so I don’t think any of them are infected. Are they?” He added after a moment, worry lacing his words.

“No; there’s nothing here deep enough to require stitches, but lay down on your stomach for a moment. I need to be sure there isn’t any glass left in there, which is kin do hard seeing as it's half healed. Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you cops? I put more of you back together then I do treating most other patients!” His voice carried a sharp edge still but it was shining with worry and exasperation, anxiety and fear dulling it’s edge. Gerard grunted non-commentally as Ray pressed his nimble and thin fingers over his back, and heard a chair being scraped to be beside them.

“Is he going to be okay?”

“Yeah; the last time he came in about a week or so after the fact and it was worse then this was when Grace was his partner.” Ryan said before he closed his mouth with a loud ‘snap!’ Jon looking at him sharply and Brendon muttering,

“Oh boy…”

“Okay, who the hell is Grace? And why is it taboo to say her name?” Frank asked. Ray stood and grabbed Ryan’s hand, then turned to Jon,   

“Can you help Brendon stand? I need to take him to room 308 for a few stitches and I’d rather not have Gerard pass out on me. Okay? Okay. Gerard, you’re not off the hook yet but you don’t have any glass in those wounds. Don’t move though.”

Before either man could blink, they were alone. Well that is to say, Frank was alone with a slowly simmering Gerard who was ready to explode. This was not going to be pretty.

“Seriosuly Gerard, who is she? What does she mean to you?” Frank asked, surprsingly gentle and quiet in the all white room, much like a theif that was wearing a mask, trying to pick open wounds that were better left closed. The raven haired men stared at each other and Gerard sat up slowly, anger and pain making his usually inquisitive and almost fanatic hazel eyes darker, more dangerous. Frank Iero though, had the look that said he practically stared down Death itself and wasn’t afraid of his new partner. Gerard’s voice was low, thick and rough with anger and muted screams.

“Grace WAS my old partner, before Jimmy. We were partners for two years, a standing record. You wanna know you who she was, huh?” He barked out a dry laugh. “She was the one person who could keep up with me, understand my crazy habits and actually got me off drinking a few years before she became my partner. I’ve been sober for almost six years now; I’ve known her for most of my life. If I wasn’t gay, I would have married her. She was my best fucking friend and she’s..” He stopped and Frank moved closer, voice softer, like whisper but still not quite.

“Where is she, Gerard? Is she with another partner? Did she move?”

"Oh, don’t I fucking wish that! Oh no, Frank,” he sneered his partners name, ignoring the wince and the sudden rebellious look in his eyes that followed right after. “She’s dead. Six feet under ground. The reason why I’ve been tracking McCracken and why I take this case so seriously is because of her. He fucking killed her, right in front of me. I could do NOTHING, Frank. Nothing.” He broke off at that, and tried to push that from his mind.

“It’s okay, Gerard… I under-“

“Don’t you fucking DARE say you understand what I’ve been through, Iero. Don’t you fucking dare. I’ve lost my best friend since childhood, I seriosuly doubt you lost someone that close you before.” The instant he said that though, he wished he could take it back. Frank’s face transformed and he blinked, once, twice, before his face was livid. The glare he leveled him with made Gerard want to crawl out of skin and disappear but he was stubborn. Gerard glared back before he felt a hand connect with his face and his head snapped to the side, and he was brought back to reality.

“Shut the fuck up, you mother fucking… I can’t even! You say you’ve lost your best friend? So sorry, jack ass but some of us have lost more then that! I lost EVERYTHING! I have nothing left for me but to track down McCracken and make him fucking PAY for what he did! The only reason I’m here telling you this is because of Ray and Brendon. The next time you want to complain and bottle something up, do it so that your friends don’t suffer. I didn’t meet Grace but I can sure as fuck bet she wouldn’t want you acting like an asshole.” Frank’s voice was like a whisper in a graveyard, thick with unshed tears and lost fear. It was raw, harsh and he looked like a book that was barely held together at the spine; threatening to rip apart if he turned a page wrong. Before Gerard could even open his mouth to apologize, or even find the words, Frank was running out out the room, pushing past Jon, Ryan, Ray and Jamia, who shared looks of concern.

When they entered the room again they saw Gerard struggling to get on his jacket, worry and aprehension in his eyes as he stared at the door. 

“Gerard, what the fuck did you say to him?” Ray asked, exasperation and slight hysteria edging his voice as Ryan rushed forward to check his face.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK! God damn it, why did I open my mouth?” he snapped, pushing away Ryan’s hands before he started pacing, hands clecnhing and unclenching, wishing to hell that he could take back the last five minutes.

“What did you say to him?” Ryan asked, calm and quiet; he must be in good mood today. Jamia looked ready to kill him, but also like she wanted to run after Frank. Ray rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed, sitting down in a wheelie chair as Jon leaned against the desk. Gerard ran a hand through his hair again and again, making the thick, jaw length hair stick up in random places.

“I exploded about Grace and then he punched me, probably for good reason as I was being a complete ass, and then said how he lost everything. God damnit, why did I open my mouth?! What the fuck is wrong with me?!” he shouted before he breathed deeply, the air smelling of antiseptic and metallic tang of copper. He went to the door and froze at the door, as if the inanimate object were the Great Wall of China.

“Where would he be? Where would he go?” Gerard asked the door as if it held the answers.

“He would go to visit his family.” Ray said quietly and Gerard nodded, opening the door and closing it behind him, then racing down the hall, headed for the stairwell and leaping each step as if they were burning his soles. Three flights of stairs later he was on the ground floor, headed outside. By the time he reached his car, the rain had lightened up considerably and was now just a friendly drizzle, like the kind he and Mikey used to run around in because they could. He opened the car door and pulled out his phone, holding down **5** and waiting for the other to pick up.

‘ _Hello?_ ’

“Patrick! Okay, I need to pull in a favor.” The assistant sighed but Gerard could hear papers being shifted and low tones before he heard,

‘ _Okay, what is it?_ ’

“Francis Anthony Iero Junior and everything you have on his family.”

‘ _Okay, wait a second…_ ’ There was typing of keys and then a breath being sucked in.

 _'Gerard… Frank’s family… The great majority are dead, at least in the immediate sense. Parents, Linda and Frank Iero Senior, deceased, both grandparents, on either side, deceased. Uh… Cousins, ten of them, deceased, and about four aunts and uncles, also deceased. I don’t think a few of those cousins were blood related though. This is interesting…_ ’ Patrick paused and a small gasp escaped.

“What?” He demanded, his gut churning.

‘ _They all died relatively on the same day; the few that didn’t are in witness protection somewhere over seas… Holy shit, McCracken and his men’s finger prints were all over this and none of them were able to be connected!_ ’

“How the FUCK is THAT possible?” Gerard demanded.

‘ _Apperently quite a few had friends in high places. Well, and the fact that they literally disappeared for about three or four years before resurfacing. Holy shit Gerard, Spencer needs to get this, like now._ ’ Patrick sounded more than a bit hysteric.

“I’ll tell Mikey. Any idea on where Frank’s family is right now?” Gerard asked, starting up his car. Jon and Brendon could drive themselves back or get Ray to drive them.

‘ _Uh, yeah… Our Lady of Perpetual Health cementary._ ’ Patrick whislted on the other end and Gerard felt his throat clog up.

“What?”

‘ _Frank was given a shrink because they thought he was sucidal case; apperently he wasn’t but he was admitted to the hospital by one Mr. Boyd Urie and one Mrs. Grace Urie; they were his legal guardians, according to the papers that his parents signed for ‘family’. Anyways, he was given over three dozen stitches to close a cut along his forearm, though his palm was barely healed from a pervious injury. Damn Gerard…_ ’

“Patrick, where are you getting all of this?”

‘ _Brian and Pete had Frank’s file and so I just opened it._ ’ Gerard could picture the blonde blushing slightly and shrugging, pulling his hat a bit over his eyes.

“Right… Okay, I’ll see you guys later.” Gerard hung up and reeved the car, then putting it in drive, raced off to find his partner. 

   ++++++

Frank looked at the grave stones of his mom and dad, the rest of his family a few rows away, hands shoved into his pockets and his hood down, the cold rain sliding down his face. His cousins that hadn’t been taken were underground or in protection and the few letters he was able to send and receive notified him they were fine. His grandparents were gone, his two very close friends stone cold and his uncles, aunts and his baby cousin, Rebecca, who had been no older than four, just learning to say his name, had all been killed. He wasn’t there to stop it. He had left Bert’s gang he thought early enough before he had to shoot anyone but Bert’s haunted words rattled in his mind. ‘ _No one lives to tell the tales of my life but for you, Iero, I may make an exception. You were so kind to pay up, so maybe I’ll spare a few._ ’ He hadn’t known what McCracken had meant by that then but he found out when he came home with a pay check and just nothing but blood and then police officers.

He was seventeen and trying to get through high school. Frank was smart enough to get to a good college but he had to go through on scholarship, and had a shit ton of loans to pay off. After McCracken, and soon as he was out of school, Frank had decided to pursue the son of a bitch and strangle him. His dad had been a cop and often encouraged him to follow that path. After his family’s death, all he was left with was his grandmother’s rosary that she had given his mother who had given it to him, even though he wasn’t female, a purpose of destroying Bert fucking McCracken and a scar on his palm and arm from where he missed his arties. If Brendon and Ray hadn’t stopped him, he wouldn’t be here right now.

“Hey Mom, hey Dad. It’s Frankie. I have a partner, his name is Gerard Way. He’s a bit crazy, and really, really, REALLY strange but it fits him. He’s also kind of an ass, but I guess part of that was my fault. He’s werid, and animated, he really seems like an interesting guy though, so I’ll get to know him. I’m sorry I wasn’t here last week but I was trying to find something on McCracken in order to you know, move the case along. I’m doing great, and from what I’ve heard from Luke, Chris, Mia, Lucy, Marie, Ana, Bel, and Jake, the whole lot are great. They’re over someplace overseas, last I heard cause of witness protection and all. I miss you both so much it hurts.” Frank tried to keep tears from falling, but as he felt the heat at his back, a rapidly familiarizing smell of cigarettes, coffee, dirt, and paper and ink, two strong arms circle around his waist and hold him close, he turned into Gerard’s embrace and let the tears slide.

Gerard said nothing, did nothing aside from rocking Frank a little bit side to side and petting his hair, running his fingers through it and just being SOLID. Frank could feel Gerard’s heart beating steadily through three layers of cloth and latched onto that sound, fisting his new partner’s shirt in his shaking hands and letting go of all his pent up emotion.

“I’m sorry, Gee...” He murmured when the tears subsided a bit and Gerard shook his head, saying,

“You have nothing to be sorry for Frankie; If anything, I shoud be apologizing for everything I said back there. I’ve known you for about a week and a half and I already want to know every little thing I can. I can get like this when I want to know something; I track down the facts and I lose myself in the idea of it all.” Frank worried his lip ring for a moment as tears ran down his face silently before he muttered, “I’m afraid if I try to stand, then everything else is going to go up in smoke like it did then.” “I won’t let it. We’ll find McCracken and tear him to the ground, don’t worry.”

“I’m just so tired of feeling this way.” Frank closed his eyes as Gerard lifted his head, but a rumble in Gerard’s chest made him open them.

“Then let me help, Frankie. I won’t run away if you bleed, cry or try to run away from me. Bob know’s how many people I’ve chased away because of well, various reasons. I don’t want to lose you too. I don’t know you but I want to.”

“Good, cause you’re stuck with me. Asshole.” Gerard couldn’t help but to smile at this and titled up Frank’s face up a bit more, brushing away the tears as they fell with the pads of his thumbs. Suddenly speared by a bold idea, Gerard kissed away one of the tears at the base of Frank’s eye. The feeling was electric and shocked both men before Frank’s mouth twitched, not quite a smile but pressed himself back into Gerard’s arms. They fit. Two very worn, frayed and stained men trying to figure out a way to save everyone but themselves had finally found a piece they were missing. Frank suddenly started giggling and Gerard blinked in surprise, until he felt laughter bubbling out of his throat, though he was confused as to why he was laughing at a time like this.

“Jesus Christ, we are the corniest people ever, aren’t we?” Gerard shrugged and with an innocently impish smile,

"Eh, Mikes always said I was a nerdy, corny guy. Besides, who doesn’t like some corniness in their life?” Frank smacked his chest but smiled all the same and the pair left the graveyard; Frank took out a pack of cigarettes and offered one to Gerard, who took it gratefully.

“Come on, let’s get going.” Frank muttered but there was a slight smile, a twitch of his lips kind of smile, but it made Gerard’s day.

    ++++

When they got back to the station, Frank settled into his chair and propped his feet against the desk, coffee clutched in his hand like it was his fucking life line. His mind was going a thousand miles an hour at the way Gerard had kissed, fucking kissed some of his tears away. He could feel the easy relationship just under the surface and he couldn’t deny that Gerard looked pretty damn good but he was so damn confusing! He was like a painting that he had seen in a museum once; all vibrant colors screaming out at once that never seemed to make any sense, stained and ripped. He couldn’t pin the feelings he had for the man but he knew he would figure it out… He had to. Frank’s thoughts were interrupted by soft knocking on the door frame and he looked from behind the computer screen where he was, admittedly, hiding.

A tall, gangly looking kid poked his upper body around the door frame.

“Gerard?” Mikey, he presumed. He wasn’t wearing any glasses but it was hard for Frank to miss the long limbs and pointed face. Different from Gerard were he was tall and gangly, slight and willowly where Gerard had muscle, but his eyes and the intense air around him was the same.

"Nope.” He got to his feet and Mikey looked at him so critically he was worried that he was going to be dissected.

“You must be Frank, Gerard’s new partner. I’m Mikey, Gerard’s younger brother.”

"How did you-“

“My boss is boning the deputy and is best friends with Brendon, and my best friend is Pete Wentz, so it’s not that hard to find something out. Anyways, congratulations for surviving Gerard; are you two okay?”

“Yeah, just visiting family.” Mikey nodded and put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.” Frank was startled and Mikey didn’t blink so he just let the younger Way’s hand rest there. It was so different from Gerard and somehow it was similar. It was kind of creepy and oddly comforting.

“It’s okay; when I find him, I’m going to strangle him.” Mikey seemed to know who he was taking about and nodded. “Include me in on that one; I can help get you out any legal trouble. Also, we should be friends.” His lips twitched upwards slightly and Frank felt his own treacherous mouth grin back, despite his internal turmoil.

Mikey suddenly turned serious and stared into his eyes, the intense air back and seeming to envolope them.

“Um, okay? What’s up?” “Gerard; he’s confusing and he might try to run you off,” Mikey paused, seeming to struggle with words, as if Gerard were impossible to describe. Frank could atest to that, and he had known the man for a week and a half. He quickly cut in to save Mikey the trouble.

"Mikey, I know. I grew up with Brendon, I’ve heard the horror stories. And anyways, when I want to follow through on something, I will fucking sink my teeth in until I get to the core and then protect it with my life.”

Gerard came in at the moment, surprise written across his face. Mikey turned to him, eyebrow raised. He and Mikey seemed to have a silent conversation, expressions changing, eyebrows and eyes rising, rolling and blinking.

Finally, Mikey smiled, a full blown smile that showed his sharp, white teeth and nodded to Frank, clapped his shoulder and waved to Gerard. He grabbed few folders from his brother’s hands and said over his shoulder,

“See you at Mom’s tomorrow.” Gerard turned to Frank, spinning on his heel and staring his partner down.

“How the hell did you do that?”

“Uh… What?”

“You got my baby brother to smile, like fully smile, and he does not do that with new people, unless its someone he’s trying to have sex with and that smile is usually false. That was a real Micheal James Way smile, Frank Iero.”

“Uh… I feel special?”

“You really fucking should. Holy shit.” Gerard laughed, an edge of hysteria but mostly relief.

“You now officially have Mikey’s approval; the only other one of my partners who got that was Grace and she didn’t really count seeing as how we had known her for years. God damn, now I really can’t lose you.”

Frank grinned, laughing at his partner’s diva attitude, internally feeling light as a bird and said,

“Well, this should be an interesting partnership.” Gerard groaned and fell into his chair, arm thrown over his face but Frank saw his smile.

An interesting partnership indeed.


	3. Ideas; they come in every way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello; thanks to those that bookmarked Sins, Confessions, and Detective Work, it means a lot! Leave comments if you like my work.  
> On with the story!!  
> No, wait lies.  
> Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING. All people belong to their respective selves and OCs belong to me. 
> 
> -RR

Gerard was face down on his desk, hands cramping and twitching from all the writing he had to do to fill out the most recent pile of paperwork. Two months and three car chases, four interogations, two drug busts and a close call… All equaled a cold lead. Even with Frank’s information of McCracken, they still hadn’t gotten any further.

“Gerard… Gee?” Frank. He shook Gerard’s shoulder and then leaned over his partner’s prone back to look at his paperwork and his computer screen.

“Gee, I bring coffee.” He tried to bribe the exhausted detective and succeeded, if Gerard’s head rising a fraction and blinking tiredly at him before his head went ‘ _thunk_ ’ on the desk, his laptop barely saved by Frank’s quick refelxes. Gerard didn’t so much as flinch when Frank hit his head, merely graoned softly then held out a hand, fingers making a little ‘come hither’ movement.

“I’m not your slave, jack ass. Get up and get it for yourself.” Frank’s words had little bite  however and Gerard’s head rose so his chin was on the table, amusement lining his gaze and his face shining in the dimmed laptop light.

“It’s not MY fault you make the best coffee I’ve ever tasted and I’m too tired,” Frank smirked and pulled the mug out of Gerard’s reach, making him sit up and look at Frank fully.

"Uh-huh. So if you don’t want it, I’ll just pour it down the sink.” Frank smirked and walked from the room. Gerard rolled his eyes and stood, cracking his back and fingers, sighing in relief and wincing at the noise.

“Frank, you do realize that I can just make or get more, right?” He asked, following the short raven haired man. He heard Frank laugh manically and felt his stomach sink a bit. THAT laugh was _never_ good when it was directed at you, personally.

“Well, you COULD, if Bob hadn’t restricted the amount of coffee you drink and switched everything here to decaf.” Gerard felt his jaw drop as he rounded a corner and saw Frank about to pour the coffee down the sink, an evil glint in his eyes. Gerard sprinted into the room, clearly set on grabbing the cup of coffee and if he accidentally hurt Frank, he was sorry but it was possibly the last cup that he would get for a LONG time. If that were the case,  he was going to need to get up earlier in the morning to drink more coffee. Frank, noticing his partners predatory look, quickly set the coffee down and tried to run for it; sadly, this did not work. Gerard quickly tackled his friend to the ground and held him there, glaring at him.

"Gee! Gerard! I was kidding!” He squeaked as Gerard started tickling his ribs, a smirk coming to his face.

“Are you going to give me my coffee?” He asked, tickling Frank’s chest and armpits, making the younger male laugh loudly and breathlessly.

“NEVER!!” Frank squealed, laughter bouncing off the walls. Gerard shrugged and tickled Frank mercilessly, going from his chest and armpits to his neck and then down to his sides, knowing exactly where to press to get the man laughing so hard he wouldn’t be able to breathe. Suddenly, Gerard’s phone chimmed and he stopped, leaving Frank panting, giggling and glaring at his partner as he sat on his stomach, knees on either side of his sore ribs.

“Alright, come on,” Gerard said, sitting back on his heels.

“Wait… What?”

“It’s your birthday Frankie. Let’s go out and celebrate. Paper work can wait for tomorrow and then we can get the interns to file it.” He stood and brushed his clothes free of non-exsistant dust, grabbing his jacket. He looked like Sweet Pea when you didn’t feed her treats; dejected.

“Come on, you need some cheering up.”

That was true _._

_Today, Frank had one person wish him happy birthday, and that was Gerard. Brendon merely waved and smiled before heading out that day, Jon didn’t even look up from his desk when Frank came in to drop off some of the files and pick up a few more forms he and Gerard had needed. Bob waved and then went bck to talking on the phone, probably to Schecter because he was saying something like,_

_"_ Brian, I’ve tried, trust me.  Bring it up at the next meeting with the council or something; you’re the mayor for fucks sake. You should be able to do soemthing about the shitty excuses for  roads. My men have had to deal with more accidents there in the last five months then the highway patrol does in three. Try to get it fixed…”

_Gerard had tugged him away, shaking his head and nodding to the ‘lounge’ at that point. Gerard made them coffee and got Frank’s mind off of his birthday by talking about the newest movies that were out, about how the remakes weren’t as good as the original, to which Frank replied, “Some are, like a few good horror remakes but others are just shit.” And then spent about an hour comparing old movies and comic books to the new ones and how different things were from when they were kids. Gerard tactfully, for once, avoided Frank’s past, knowing his partner would tell him when he wanted to, and stayed on the topic of how today’s youth was crazy and such. For the rest of the day, they had been doing paper work, until they got a call out on a suspect and brought him in. Frank had actually been the one who did the crazy stunt, though to him it seemed he and Gerard traded or may have even started a competition on how crazy they could go without causing serious bodily harm._

_That day, Frank had jumped in front of a moving train as their suspect just stood on the tracks after they had chased him towards the limits and tackled the guy. The man  seemed to have a death wish, and Frank wound up with scratched up arms, a sore leg and shoulders from his roll and his ribs bruised by a gun shot from the jack ass. He lay winded for a second and he was astounded at the speed Gerard could run. He had slid down the small hill of gravel, dirt and trash to Frank and their suspect, who was about to put a bullet between his eyes, and tackled him from the side. Gerard actually punched the guy in the jaw, then stepped on his hand ‘accidentally’ when he tried to reach for his gun.  For good measure, he was pretty sure he saw Gerard ‘accidentally’ kick his ribs twice, an air of death and cold surrounding the usually spazzy and manic, if somehow collected, detective. The excitement over, Gerard handcuffed his wrists and then his ankles, forcing the perp to his feet and not helping him stand as he fell over again. Gerard then turned back to Frank and fell to his knees beside him, fearfully patting him down to search for blood. Frank smiled and laughed, a bit breathless, and sat up, brushing off his friend and partner’s anxious hands._

_“Gee, I’m fine… My ribs hurt like shit and I’m a bit sore but I think I’ll live.“ Gerard scowled at the squirming and shouting suspect for a second before slamming his lips to Frank’s then pressed his forehead to his own._

_“_ NEVER _do that to me again, Frank Iero… I thought I lost you…” Gerard looked ready to either kill someone or cry, Frank didn’t know which. He stood, brushing off his shirt and opened it, revealing a kaliver vest. He ignored that gidy feeling in his chest and tucked it away where his hope was shelved._

_“See? I’m fine. Now, let’s go.” He squeezed Gerard’s hand and smiled before stalking towards the the suspect._

 “Frank? Frankie?” Gerard’s voice pulled him out of his revire and he looked around. They were outside ‘House of Wolves’, a bar and resteraunt that had the best kinds of everything.

"Huh? Sorry Gee, daydreaming.” Gerard still pressed a hand to his forehead, worry evident.   

“Well, you’re not warm. You sure you’re okay?”  

“I’m fine, Gee. Just remembeing what happened earlier today.” Gerard looked a bit less worried and more annoyed and a bit fearful as he too seemed to remember when he thought Frank was going to die. Frank smiled and squeezed his hand reassuringly, showing that he wasn’t going to disappear on him, and opened the cacr door, walking towards the door. Gerard qucikly sent off a text, fingers flying across the key pad, and smiled at the response.

‘ _Can do! ;P –W'_

Gerard ran to catch up with Frank, opening the door for him before Frank even had the chance to try and get to the handle.

“After you, kind sir.” Frak rolled his eyes but went in all the same. He looked around and sighed, either out of contentment or frustration, that the palce was nearly empty aside from a few obvious regulars. He slid into a booth and put his head down on th etable. Gerard signaled the bartender, who nodded minutely and pushed two drinks down the table; a coke and a beer.

“Ugh, shouldn’t this place be packed or something with people? It’s Hallow-fucking-ween; normally kids are trying to throw the biggest, baddest parties, aren’t they?”  Frank asked as he looked around the bar area. The bar took up an entire section of wall, mirror along the back, with drinks of all kinds, mostly of the alcohlic variety, lining the back. There were stools lining that side, then a few booths that were dimly lit by bronze scone lights, the deep cream and white offsetting shadows. There was a wood panel along the side that served as a ledge for the window into the kitchen, the lights on and few people moving around, out of view. The restuerant mixed with the bar side; free standing tables at regular intervals with chairs mingled throughout. Graceful windows showed the setting sun as it slanted across the hardwood floor, covered tables before finally coming to a stop over Frank’s beer and Gerard’s cola; making the dark liquid inside brighter.

“Ask Brendon or one of the other people on the force. They could tell you. Maybe Lauren and Jake, or Marie could tell you. Anyone down in domestic or patrol; I heard last year this one guy got so drunk he went streaking in the middle of a busy intersection.”

“Are you sure that wasn’t Wentz?

“Nah, he and Patrick were in Chicago with Brian; some meeting.”

“Was that the one where Patrick couldn’t find either?”

“Nope, that one was the year before that. “

 “Hn, visiting family, I guess?” Gerard nodded, a bit warily. Frank took another swig of beer and looked Gerard in the eyes.

“I was seventeen, in my junior year of high school when it happened.” Gerard didn’t have to ask what; he had heard some of this story already.

"I had been in Bert’s gang for a few weeks but I got out before I had to do anything horrible, like a drug deal or shoot someone; I was just a messenger. Anyways, I got an actual job, thanks to one of my friends, Travie McCoy. He put a good word in for me at his job; a record shop. I left Bert’s central gang shortly before I landed the job.” He paused and drank some more of his beer. Gerard was startled; he never knew, at least for certain, that Frank was _that_ close to McCracken; it explained how he knew so much about his hot spots though. And why he said some of his information was wrong.

“Travie is still alive, I’m pretty sure. Anyways, I’d been working there for a few months when I suddenly get a message, a guy form the gang, a new kid, but he looked like he wasn’t afraid to shoot everyone in that store if McCracken had told him. It was a message; ‘ _No one lives to tell the tales of my life but for you, Iero, I may make an exception. You were so kind to pay up, so maybe I’ll spare a few.’_ I didn’t know what he meant by ‘pay up’ but I guess I didn’t really care at the moment. That week, my cousins, Anna, Will, little Rebecca, Helen, and Taylor were with us, along with my grandparents, and my aunt and uncles, Stephine and Bob, Alan and Jess. We didn’t have a big house but it was comfortable enough.” He paused again, words catching in his throat.

“I should have known something was wrong when Mom didn’t pick up when I called to tell her that Travie couldn’t give me a ride home and so I needed one. I ran home, hoping for something hot to eat and drink, a smile from Mom and to teach Becca my name. She was just learning to say it.” He drank more of his beer and looked at his hands, as if they held answers. His rosary beads claked softly together as he traced the line down his arm through his coat.

“They were all dead. I can still see it Gee… I ran inside, calling for anyone to answer. They were sitting in the living room, my grandparents, a look of surprise on their faces before I saw the blood. I didn’t touch anything, just ran upstairs to my room, where Becca was. She wasn't there; she had died in Aunt Stephine’s arms, I’m told. I screamed, screamed and screamed, then dialed 9-1-1. I was babbling at that point but I think they got the gist of it. I tried to call two of closest friends; Lauren and Mike but they weren’t picking up. I drew my own conclusions. They found me in my room, probably in shock cause I don’t remember a lot after that. I know I didn’t cry until I was alone.

“They drove me to the station where I called a friend James Dewees and his family; they were my second family almost. His dad and mine had a few jam sessions, at least, when Dad got a day off. The funny thing is that my Dad had given me his old guitar and promised to teach me how to play that day because he was free from paper work.” Gerard had noticed the little dents in the tips of his fingers but never asked, knowing what they were almost automatically. Mikey had them, Ray had them. They were from picking a guitar, playing the chords till they were wet with blood; though his trigger finger had a dent, one that meant long hours spent at the firing range. He also didn’t comment on how Frank’s story was a bit out of order but he knew better that to interrupt. Gerard just stretched his hand across the table but left it a few centimeters from his hand, waiting.

“I wasn’t really right for a few months; I didn’t speak for a while, maybe a month, then I just lost it when the school bullies started teasing some litle freshman girl about being adopted. I punched the leader in the gut, then attacked his croonies, and at that point I was glad my dad insistied I take kick boxing. James and Brendon actually helped me; their parents weren’t to happy about it but let it go with James’ and Brendon’s smooth talking. Anyways, I was just sick of everything and envious. Anyone in my family who wasn’t killed and or is still alive is now in witness protection until McCracken is put away. I was admitted to a hospital for sucicidal thoughts afew months later, well, that’s what they said anyways. I didn’t do this,” he rolled up his sleeve and indicated his Mary and the faint scar barely visible.

“One of McCracken’s boys had a kid in my grade, some how the little punk was intelligent, and managed to corner me. He did that to my arm and palm, barely missing my arteries. At the time, I guess I was happy, in a weridly morbid sense. I wouldn’t have minded dying. Fortunatly, Brendon found me and with some nifty handy work, managed to stop the bleeding. I was rushed to a hospital and then assigned a shrink. After a few months, maybe half a year, and I got better. I had to enter college on a scholarship but I had the grades and I obviously went into law enforcement. A few months after I was released from the hospital, before I went into college, I got a Lady of Sorrows, her,” He stroked the tattoo a bit, a almost serene look coming to his face. “Over the scar. It’s still there, just hidden in her line work.”

There was silence and Gerard just put his hand on top of Frank’s, the rosary wrapped around his knuckles and arm, rolling the beads under the pads of his fingers, and just smiled, a small smile. But there was no need for words. Suddenly, before either man could speak, or even find the need to, the lights dimmed and then shut out.

“God damn it! Hey, Frankie, mind helping me with the lights?” Frank sighed but nodded.

“If this is like last time, I swear Robbin…”

"Oh please. I got lights installed and even got rid of anything creepy crawly down there. Come on, you can get into that space better then I can and I promise it’s better lit then last time. Also, you do this for me, anything you order tonight is for free.” Robbin flicked on a lantern and crossed his heart.

 Frank nodded and stood, taking one last drink before following Robbin to a door at the back of the restuerant and disappeared. Gerard waited until he heard the door close; soon as it did, he was on his feet, running to the front door and throwing it open. Pete came bounding in, arms full of Halloween decorations, Patrick and Brian close behind with even more decortations; streamers, ballons, confetti and a few random roses for the tables. Ray came in with amps on a dolly, Mikey and Spencer came in a few seconds later, their arms laden with CDs and a few wires wrapped around Mikey’s waist and neck. Brendon came in, practically bouncing, with the rest of the sound system, Ryan having wrapped the rest of the wirse around his wrists and shoulders. Jon and Bob followed with lights, a few boxes of sparklers and even a jack-o-lantern, it’s face carved in a wicked smile. Jamia came in from the kitchen, her arms heavy with food and random items. The cooks, Nate and Alex, came out with an assortment of dishes, some vegaterian, others meat and a few were vegan. Rusty and Nina, the bakers for ‘Unscripted’, came in with a huge jack-o-lantern cake came in through the kitcehn doors just behind them, huge smiles on their faces. Everyone quickly set up, Gerard helping with the sound system as Lindsey Balto, a doctor that worked on the same shift as Ray, came running in with a manic glint to her eyes.

“Hurry! He’s finding the switches!” she said as she helped Jamia with the streamers.

Pete and Patrick helped Nate, Ryland and Alex set up the food as Brian and Bob tied ballons, orange, black, purple, red, and grey all over the place. Ryan and Mikey placed confetti all over the tables and Gerard smiled as he plugged in a few amps, then headed outside with Ray, Bob (once he detactched himself from a ballon string that stubbornly wouldn’t tie around the chair and somehow tied around his fingers), Spencer and Bredon out to Brian’s car. There they opened the trunk and grabbed a huge white sheet, a projectior, DVD palyer, several hooks and rope, and an extension cord. As the small group went back inside, they were greeted with the sight of what was roughly a mash of halloween party and a birthday party. A place for music and amps sat over by the booths, the food laid out on tables and the space illuminated by high power lanterns Lindsey brought out from underneath the bar.

Streamers hung along the bar, mixing with Christmas lights, a large orange banner was hidden by the shadows but Gerard knew what it said. He had painted the words ‘HAPPY 28th BIRTHDAY FRANKIE!!’ himself after all. Brian and Spencer were collecting the lanterns that were scattered around the room, leaving the main ones on the table. The cake hidden from veiw and the rest of the food laying in wait on the tables of booths, roses and confettti laying over each one. Quickly, they turned off the rest lanterns and Lindsey stashed them back under the bar, while everyone else cleaned away any obvious signs of them having been there.

Gerard gestured, one the officers knew well and each went to hide in the shadows of booths and tables, Pete, Brian, Mikey, and Spencer hiding behind the bar, grins wide and barely muffling snickers. Nate, Alex, Ryland, Lindsey, Jamia, Jon, and Bob hid in the kitchen as Ryan and Brendon dove for a booth, Brendon pulling a cloak out of nowhere and covering them. Rusty, Nina and Ray went for hiding behind the sound system, and Gerard pulled back the chair, waiting for the door to open and Frank to come back up. He was jittering with excitement, and barely kept his solemn mask. Finally, there was a slam and Frank came running, looking absolutely petrified.

“That thing was HUGE, holy fucking hell… Robbin!! You said there weren’t anymore god damn spiders in that hole! What the fuck?!” He yelled and Gerard heard Brendon trying to muffle a giggle and covered the sound as a cough.

“Hey, Frank, can you get the lights?” Robbin called and Frank grumbled but did as the bar tender asked. He went over the side wall where there was a line of switches.

"Which one?” He called, confused.

"All of them; come on, the ice might be melting by now!” Robbin said and Frank, Gerard could barely see, nodded and flipped up all five switches. All at once there was a great shout of  “SURPRISE!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” From everyone in hiding and Frank’s eyes practically popped out of his head as he stared at everything.

“Wahh! Oh my god!!” He grinned hugely and looked as if he had been shell shocked or electrocuted for a moment before he turned to Gerard, grinning ear to ear

“What? Did you dare to think that we forgot your birthday? What blasphemy is this?!” Brendon exclaimed, eyebrows raised dramatically. Mikey smiled and pointed him to a mountain of presents. Frank’s eyes pretty much popped out of his head and he stammered over his words, trying to find them so he could say something. He stopped, closed his mouth. Then opening it again,

“Holy mother fucking shit! Best. Birthday. EVER!” He yelled, grabbing Gerard and hugging him close before releasing him to just look around in awe. Gerard smiled, laughing at his partners antics and grabbed a water from the bar that Lindsey passed him. The rest of the night passed quite easily; Frank’s eyes grew impossibly wide, again, as he watched Nate and Ryland bring his pumpkin cake and he was practically jumping like Pete Wentz on a sugar rush. Music played in the background, people chatted happily and told stories about old cases, stories in general and Pete even regaled them all of tales form Chicago; i.e tales of his idiocy as he tried to stay out of trouble.

Brendon, Nina, Ryan and Brian had disappeared during the early life of the party only to reappear later on with all the wires, projector, DVD player and white screen. They cleared away the lights on the bar, all the food and water, and set up the impromptu movie screen there, Brian nodding in satisfaction when it was ‘just right’. Gerard, Mikey, Pete, Rusty, Nate and Ryalnd then spent about a half hour moving around tables, placing them on top of the tables connected to booths and then placing blankets and other miscellaneous items of such nature on the floor, creating, essentially, a giant nest.

Gerard pulled Frank down next to him, Bob, Brian, Spencer, and Jon in front of them, Mikey on the right side of Gerard, Ray beside Frank. Nate and Ryland sat in front of Bob, Brian, Spencer and Jon with Jamia, Lindsey, and Robbin. Pete, Patrick, Rusty, Nina, Brendon, Ryan, and Alex all sat just behind. Mikey got up and flicked off the lights, Patrick standing to turn on the projector, setting up the movie. Mikey returned to his spot by Gerard and settled against his brother, Frank grinning and muttered in his ear,

"Seriosuly Gerard, best day in my entire fucking life.” Gerard smiled at him and patted Frank’s head then tuned into the conversations around him. Frank and Mikey were talking with Brian, Bob, Spencer and Jon about some church scam that nearly cost a church hundreds of dollars in what they belived to be an actual cause; obviously, it was one of McCracken’s earlier feats. Gerard shivered at the thought of the man and promised that, even if he was occasionally a pacifist, okay, mostly a paciifist but for what this guy had done, he was more then willing to do anything, well _almost_ anything, to bring him down.

Frank shifted and brought out his phone, a glint in his eyes as he typed something, probably in notes, but Ryan was looking over his shoulder and laughed, Brendon sharing a look with him then reading whatever Frank had typed. The smirk on his face made Gerard’s stomach plummet and Frank’s evil giggle did nothing to help that; his bad feeling quickly shifted to feeling like he was being confronted with several needles. He shook his head and and grabbed Frank’s hand, the one with his phone and smiled at his slightly confused look and nodded to the movie. It was an old Hitchcock movie and Frank’s attention, like everyone else, was riveted on it. Gerard slipped the phone from his grip and thumbed through the notes, eyes looking for any words that stood out. There was nothing; ‘ _reminder, feed Peppers when home_ ’, ‘ _go to store for more bread,_ ’ ‘ _ask Toro to look at ribs,_ ’ and ‘ _remember to tell Gee about new files_ ’. Gereard, while puzzled and apprehensive, returned the phone to Frank’s pocket and returned to watching the movie.

The rest of the night passed smoothly and Frank hitched a ride home from Gerard. As he dropped him off at the small apartment complex, he felt a sense of worry clench his gut. Frank looked at him, eyebrow raised and shrugged, then grabbed the bag that held several of his gifts. A toaster, a jacket, a couple shirts, a signed poster from a Smashing Pumpkins concert, new shoes, a few pairs of jeans and a drawing from Gerard. It was all of their friends, even some of Frank’s family members, as various magical creatures in a ballroom dancing, Frank and Gerard on the center; Frank with sharp teeth of a vampire, Gerard grinning with his own fangs. Gabe was a fairy, though a pretty scary looking one, Jamia a pixie as she rested on Lindseys shoulder (who looked like an elf) talking to Ray and Bob, werewolves, Brendon looking quite happy as an angel with black wings, Pete talking with Mikey, Alicia and Patrick (again, Alicia as a fairy, Mikey a vampire, Pete a rather dashing vampire and Patrick holding his top hat, laughing a sharp white fang laugh. For a mini devil, he looked pretty handsome, if Gerard said so hismef.) Rusty and Nina looked quite happy as tree sprites, sitting in a tree reading (and chatting up a nymph) that they had made grow out of the wall.

Brian, Ryland, and Nate were looking a bit awkward as they talked to William, another fairy, the trio half wolf. Ryan looked a bit out of place with his white wings next to Brendon, Travie looking amused as he danced with a random fancy dressed female zombie, the wraith paused in mid sentence. Spencer and Jon talked quietly on the window ledge, the elves looking calm. Frank’s family were intergrated (and Gerard wouldn’t admit to “finding” pictures in Frank’s file to be sure they were correctly drawn) as angels, zombies, werewolf children, and his mother and father just behind Frank and Gerard as they danced. Everyone wore fancy dress clothes, as though it were a Victorian era in a large, square ballroom with halloween decorations and large clear glass windows, the full moon in the background.

"Gerard,” Frank called as he headed back to his car, a happy, though small, smile on his face.

Yeah ,Frankie?” He turned on the steps, patient. He was actually expecting to be grilled on what happened earlier that month with the kiss. He felt fear wrench his gut again.

 Frank gave him a wry grin, though it might have been a smirk, and said,

“Thank you.”

 “You’re welcome Frank.” Gerard leaned against the car door, waiting for him to get  inside safely and watched the window for a light to turn on then off before he got back in his car and drove home. 

There were barely any cars left on the roads but Gerard still went the speed limit, his mind occupied on other thoughts and he didn’t want to get into an accident. As always, Marie was there to greet him, no matter the time of night or day, but she wasn’t yapping or bouncing like she usually was. She yawned, barked once and wagged her tail and went silent, following Gerard to the den and then outside to his garden. He sat in the grass and lit a cigarette, looking at his flowers as they swayed gently in the cold October breeze, the moon covered by clouds but that was fine. He knew exactly where everything was in his garden, and his with his thoughts racing at a thousand miles, going every which way, the less there was to listen in, the better. He looked at the stars and sighed, blowing out smoke and watching it drift upwards. He breathed deeply and set about trying to focus his thoughts. Many were on McCracken and the rising body count, up to ten people dead, and couple with those from years past, there had to be more then thirty.

Gerard groaned and fell backward into the grass, cigarette end glowing dully like embers in a dying fire. He was tired, but there was still ideas and unanswered questions running through his mind.

 “Marie, I’m in deep.” He said quietly to the small puppy who sat beside him. She lifted her head and looked at him with a stare that Mikey would often pin him with.

‘ _No, really?’_ He would talk to Mikey tomorrow about the trouble his brain and heart were fighting over and he wasn’t even sure was it was. He stood, putting out his cigarrette with the heel of his boot and walked back inside, going through his usual routine; brush teeth, find something to wear to bed in piles of clothes, read/think/write/go to sleep. Gerard managed to salvage a pair of boxers from somewhere, a pair that actually remained in his dresser and he wasn’t exactly sure how that one worked but he was too tired to care, grabbed a random shirt that looked and smelled pretty clean and threw it on. He dove into his bed and turned over so he was on his side, looking at Marie as she sniffed and pawed a pillow, almost as if she were digging for something buried deep underneath it. Gerard huffed out a laugh and closed his eyes.

Unbidden, the thought and sheer panic and terror of loosing Frank came back, twisting around his gut till he felt physically sick. He scrambled out of bed and ran to the bathroom, dry heaving into the toliet and tried to think of anything but the past failures of keeping people safe. It’s why he pushed and chased so many partners away; he didn’t want them to get hurt the way he had or from the way he had caused some kind of heavy misfortune to fall onto them. It happened all the time. After about ten minutes, Gerard leaned his forehead against the seat, arms braced by his head, breathing evening out.

The image of Frank laying prone, eyes slightly glazed and his chest not moving, he felt sick. Every partner he ever had before Grace, hell even after Grace, he had tried not to lose but somehow he still did, though much of that was his own fault as it was their own views of ‘normality’ and he really didn’t fall anywhere in that spectrum. He had promised her, promised the girl with a half smile and bloody lips that he would keep living, a whisper of faded last words echoing around his head as it rested against the porcelin.

 _'That’s my boy. Give them all hell Gerard, and don’t look back, not even for a second cause… Cause you might miss what’s right in front of you._ ’

He heaved on last time, feeling worse than when he was almost constantly hung over, drunk or high and felt Maire nudging his thigh, a whimper drawing his attention. He smiled, shaky, and stood slowly, going over to the sink and washing out his mouth. He splashed cold water on his face and leaned heavily on his arms as he stared at his reflection. He was in deep; he couldn’t stop thinking about everything at once, all the past and the possible futures that he had survived, could travel through or may never see. Many involved Frank and as he made his way back to his bed, flopping gracelessly to the soft matress, eyes sliding closed, he felt the bed dip as Maire curled into his side.

His last thought before his mental exhaustion made his brain shut down and dive into his subconcsious was that he never wanted Frank to get hurt, not any more then he already was and that if he could he would protect him. The lonely feeling in his chest as he turned over to find Marie there instead of Frank’s warm and solid heat zapped his entire body like a taser but before he could analyze it, he was drowning in his subconscious. 

+++++

Frank hopped up onto Gerard's desk the next day, coffee mugs in hand and a wide grin on his face. Gerard, who had gotten an astounding amount of five hours of sleep, thanks to his vivid nightmares, missed the grin Frank gave him until he looked up to retrieve his coffee mug. 

"Oh no, I know that smile." 

"What smile?" His face, if possible, just split in two further from his glee.

"Your slow, manic serial killer look that pretty much threatens my own and everyone else’s well-being and sanity." Frank managed to look affronted at this but shrugged and cackled manically. 

"Fine then, I won't tell you my brilliant idea on how to bring McCracken down so we can roast his ass. Preferably over a bed of coals on a spit for even, slow cooking. And it's you who gets me in trouble most of the time anyways. Also, you were never sane, Gerard." He added as an after thought.

"Either to have been spending WAY to much time with Alex, you've finally succumbed, as Mikey says, to Gee-sanity, which doesn't even make any fucking sense, or you fell asleep with a cooking show on. Also, you're a vegetarian." Gerard said, drinking from his chipped mug. 

"What-the-fuck-ever." Frank smiled cheerfully, flipping the bird to his partner. Instinctively, he moved a bit away from his desk, taking his laptop and coffee with him to be safe, and watched as his partner began to talk; gesturing wildly.

"Anyways, I was thinking; Last night, Brian, Bobert, Spence and a few other of the guys were talking about a case with a church scam. The one that thought it was donating money to a children's orphanage and wound up almost losing everything it had to McCracken and his creeps, remember? Well, McCracken, from what I remember, loves churches, for whatever reason. Sick and twisted sense of humor and irony, isn't it?"

"Point, Frank?" Gerard asked, because even though he didn't mind his partners long winded, rambling rants, he wasn't nearly awake and functioning enough to deal with one that could lead off into a tangent at seven in the morning. 

"Right. So, I was thinking; An undercover assignment that," he broke off hacking, and Gerard was out of his seat and by Frank's side with a bottle of vitamin C pills, as Ray called them, or Hell Pills, as Frank called them, in record time. 

"Thanks." he croaked, taking two and gulping them down with coffee. 

Gerard rubbed soothing circles on his back, trying to help Frank stay relaxed; that month alone, Frank had suffered more colds and flu’s then Gerard knew to be possible. What was funny about them was that when Frank was running after a perp one rainy day, actually earlier that week, and caught him, had actually sneezed on the guy whilst handcuffing him. What wasn't funny was all the times Gerard felt as if he was going to have a fucking heart attack from the close calls Frank had because he got sick and may actually catch something worse then a cold or minor flu. 

Because of this, the fact his heater broke in his apartment, and his new land lord didn't allow dogs (Frank had ranted to him for over two hours over 'how the jack ass allowed cats, birds and every other manner of creature BUT dogs, and really, who doesn’t love dogs, aside from those allergic to them but that's beside the point Gee.'), that Gerard was planning on asking, more like forcing, Frank to move in with him. He had three days left on his rent and he planned on getting Frank a better apartment. But in the mean time he could live with him and maybe sleep in Gerard’s guest room; he pretty much lived there already, since they took so much work back to his place, when he wasn't crashing in Gerard's bed with him, or wherever they fell asleep first.

Frank sighed and drank more coffee before a smirk came to his face.

"As I was saying, an undercover assignment that goes to his most recent church. McCracken has a church that he likes to go to, pray and, god forbid, be forgiven. Anyways, the church he goes to, presently, has a friend of mine as its priest. What I'm thinking of is that someone goes undercover as a newly ordained priest and then get a confession out of either McCracken's men or better yet, McCracken himself." Before Gerard could comment, Frank added, 

"And by someone, I meant you."

"Wait. What?! Frank, not to be an ass or anything, but I'm not religious! How the FUCK am I supposed to pull THAT off when I can barely act! Hell, I don't know how a priest acts!" Gerard yelled, more out of surprise and confusion then actual outrage but it was there. Frank raised an eyebrow and smiled around his coffee cup. 

"Unfortunately for you, Bob's already approved it, Patrick is ordering a new priest uniform, City Council's money too, cause apparently they have some pretty heavy religious figures there. Anyways, I can teach you." Gerard raised an eyebrow and Frank's mouth turned into a wicked smile, teeth sharp and dangerous. Again, Gerard was reminded of a wolf. Predatory, dangerous, and in Frank's case, insane and somehow graceful, intelligent, and subtle. Oh, he was in for it. 

"Catholic boy, baby. Born and raised in heavy religion so don't even try. I'll give you a crash course in Catholicism. Besides, the assignment should only be about two weeks at most. Also, newly ordained priests stay after to lock up, they never lead any sermons or youth ministries or anything. The bonus to this is that you'll have access to the confession booth, and they can't see your face, there's a screen. I'll teach you what to say, how to act, all that." 

"How much time?"

"Hmm... About two months. There's a lot to cover, and we don't really get free time." Frank gestured widely to Gerard and his messy and somehow organized so that Gerard knew where everything was, office. Gerard felt his head bobbing slightly and blanched automatically. 

Mikey and all the rest of them were going to have a field day about this….

"Oh, by the way, pack your shit up tonight, I'll come over and help."

"Uh, why?"

"Frank, your heater broke, you can't survive in that crappy place with no heat, I know for a fact, and it's choosing between Peppers and your house. I know, without a doubt, you will choose that dog. In face of this evidence, I'm offering you the ability to come and crash at my place till we can find you a better place to live. Besides, Peppers and Marie will have a blast while we're at work." He knew this was the selling card as Frank was already nodding. Besides, he pretty much lived with the detective anyways, not much of a stretch.

"Fine. I'll rope Urie and Suarez into it too; they owe me a few favors." Gerard smiled and shoved playfully at Frank's legs to get him off his desk. Needless to say, it didn't have any effect.  

"And the tracking system you and I thought of works. I downloaded it to the computer and activated it on our phones. Also, this is going sound creepy, but I put it in the soles of our shoes." 

"Okay, why the soles of our shoes, exactly?" Frank asked, raising his mug.

"Because in every horror movie, action movie, cop show, comic book, novel, or some other form of entertainment, the hero is captured or has to find someone who is before they’re killed, well in the horror movie they usually die anyways, but that's beside the point. In the middle of it all, the villain takes any form of known tracking device and then it's all Costa Rica." Frank nods and hops off his desk to go to his own, looking bored as he picked up a pen, starting to fill out the paper work from last night.

"God, I wish something would happen. I'm not looking forward to doing paper work all day." At that moment, Jon's head popped in, a manic gleam in his eyes and Frank immediately set down his writing utensil as Gerard set down his mug.

"We got a break through in the Golden Boy case. Drug bust, Bob wants every available member on the force on this one." The partners were up in seconds, their wheelie chairs still spinning at the speed they were out of their office. The role of the priest would wait for a while; they had other things to do at the moment.


	4. Beating Triggers, Beating Hearts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Welcome to the new year, etc. I know, for those that actually like my writing, that I am late with the update and I apologize and this means that I have been working on this monster of a fic for about three years now.   
> This is ridiculous. I honestly thought it would be a couple thousand words, maybe 3-5k.... IT'S EVOLVED INTO A 136 PAGE NOVEL!!!   
> Augh. I need to update more often and be less lazy but I have school and tests. But no matter to that. Onto the story!  
> No... wait, lies. DISCLAIMER!!!  
> I own NOTHING; all respective people belong to themselves. The OC's belong to me. 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> -RR

_A month, a week, several long nights, cramming and practicing later_

++++

  "This is bull shit, I hope you know." He said with as much venom as he could pack into the short sentence, to Frank. He merely shrugged and adjusted his collar before whipping out his phone so fast Gerard blinked. But if it was from the flash or the movement, Gerard didn't know. He grunted and turned back tot he mirror, feeling stiff and awkward. The collar piece was tight, the rest of his clothes seeming to constrict him slowly, as if it were an anaconda and would eat him whole before the last breath left him. Shaking that particularly morbid thought away, Gerard fingered his short hair. It wasn't even TRIMMED; it might as well be a crew cut! The front pieces and the rest of his hair, that used to go EVERYWHERE, the hair he could run his fingers through, was gone. In its place was a close cut, while still kind of thick, was much, much tamer and actually BEHAVED. 

  Mikey looked as if Gerard had two heads and told him he was going to marry Pete Wentz. Spencer did a double take, Jon and Brendon couldn't stop laughing and messing with it, Bob looked as though Gerard had said he was quitting the force in order to go into Broadway. Pete tried to not die from laughing but he looked mostly shocked and kept messing with it. Patrick looked a bit worried but mostly amused while Brian just shrugged and chuckled. Jamia, Ray and Ryan looked like he came in with a case of shingles or some other random disease. Frank though, had been the one to take him to get it cut and since then, hadn't stopped messing with it. What Pete, Patrick and Brian were doing at the station so often Gerard had yet to figure out but he was beginning to suspect it was Brian and the weird attachment he had to the place but he couldn’t exactly blame the man. That station and many of its members were close enough to be family; although this also warranted unrelented teasing and attempts to mess up his hair.

   Gerard also had to go and get it re-cut twice before the month ended because apparently his hair was washed in MiracleGro and/or decided it didn't want to stay down, adopting his own personality. As Frank said the third time he had to go and get it cut, 

   "Dude, your hair is sassy as shit, just like you." At that, Gerard had stuck his hip out, eyebrow raised and crossed his arms. Frank laughed his ass off, only to be pushed off the couch they were lounging on and a wrestling match ensued. Peppers barked like crazy, seemingly cheering her master on while Marie stretched out further, taking up the vacated space and continued to chew on her bone.  

   "Come on, show time." Frank's reflection told him and he blinked, coming back to reality. Frank chased away his hands as they messed with the cuffs a few times and handed Gerard the small recorder. 

   "Go get them, tiger." Gerard nodded and opened the door that lead to a hall way that lead to another door that opened to the back side, near the altar, of the church. He breathed deeply and put what he hoped was a convincing expression. Another priest was already there, cleaning he altar and setting out the candles. Gerard sighed and ran a hand through his hair, feeling butterflies run through his stomach, feeling as though he may throw up but quickly quiets his mind and remembered what Frank’s principals in his crash course of  ‘Catholicism 101’ taught him. Look quiet, calm and confident, be friendly and above all, try to get to know people.

   ‘ _Think of a bartender,’ Frank told him as he tried on the clothes for the first time. Gerard looked at him in surprise, a wry grin coming to his face._

_‘And here I thought the church was against alcohol.’ Frank rolled his eyes, shoving his shoulder playfully._

_‘Whatever. Anyway, it’s almost the same thing in the catholic church; a priest, especially a newly ordained one, will get to know the congregation so that he knows each person by name in the end of a month.’ At Gerard’s almost horrified stare Frank hurried to add,_

_‘I’m sure that you won’t be there that long, like maybe a week. Anyways, just be friendly, but not in a weird, pushing the boundaries. If people want to be close to you, they’ll open up. Also, your neckpiece is better then a FBI badge when you want to know something. They won’t even known what hit them.’ Frank’s grin could be described as menacing or even insane but Gerard just nodded, wary but resigned. They were going to catch McCracken if it killed him and if Frank’s crash course helped, he wasn’t going to refute it._

“Father Chris?” A soft voice behind him, older male. He felt his heart speed up but he forced himself to turn slowly, hesitant smile on his face.

   “Yes?”

    “Hello, and welcome to the church of Our Lady of Perpetual Healing.” The man looked to be about fifty but his smile was kind, open and Gerard felt like his barriers break a bit at the disarming smile.

    “Thank you, Father…”

    “Father Nick. Come, I’ll show you around and what you can do to help set up for early morning Mass. Don’t worry, you won’t have to lead anything, not yet. We try to ease our new members into the workings of the church so not to overwhelm them suddenly. You can help me and Russell set up the candles for those that wish to send a prayer to those in need or the deceased.” 

  “Um, Father Nick, I don’t mean to sound upfront or anything but do you think I could handle the Confession booth? A mentor of mine said it was a good way to help people learn to forgive themselves so that they could find the right path again.” Gerard managed to keep a straight face, deadly serious but with a hint of nerves. Father Nick looked a bit curious but smiled again and nodded.

    “Of course; it’s refreshing to have such an outtake on life.”

    “Thank you. My father told me once, when I was younger, that as often as the seasons can change, then people can as well, if they’re guided.” Father Nick nodded sagely and guided Gerard through the aisle between the pews to the front lobby like area, Gerard took a moment to appreciate the art that was the windows, the stained glass depicting scenes that were beautifully saturated, but the rest of the place was more like a cavern. Solid grey walls, a second landing that wrapped around the walls like an amphitheater, and heavy columns held the place up and yet Gerard found himself itching for his sketch book; so many idea’s were popping into his head it was ridiculous.

   He stopped just before he rammed into Father Nick’s back, and looked over the shorter man’s shoulder as he began to talk to an even older man, his skin wrinkled, long hands and pale skin stark against the black of his clothing.

   “Father Russell, this is Father Chris, Chris Wren. He is our newly ordained priest and a new addition to the church.” Gerard stuck out a hand for the man, Russell, to shake and was surprised at the strength in his hand. Gerard winced and Russell laughed, a dry creak that reminded him strangely of a grandfather.

   “Young ones, they never expect me to have any strength left in these old hands. Before I was a priest, Chris, I was in the Navy. I was known as Wrestling Champ Russell; Arm wrestling as of late, unfortunately, but in my good days, I was undefeated.” He smiled, a bit crookedly at Gerard, who felt a strange sense of admiration towards this man. He helped him set up the rest of the candles, slowly drawing out more exploits of his Navy days. It wasn’t long before Gerard knew that Russell had been in the Navy for three tours, but had been honorably discharged when his ability to hear in his right ear had been taken when a land mine went off and while he wasn’t on top of it, he was close enough that the shrapnel had hit his ear and somehow the blast had claimed his hearing, at least on his right side. Russell then turned the conversation to Gerard.

    “I was an artist for a while, still draw and write and whatever, but I was pretty screwed up. I used to drink a lot, I mean like everyday just to drown out the noise. I turned to priesthood when one of my best friends died because of a drunk driver, but for her, it was quick death I was told. I sobered up and went through everything to try and get better because I couldn’t stop thinking that if one day I was drunk enough to think it was a good idea to drive then who would I hurt? I turned to God because I couldn’t really forgive myself and my friend said He would, when she was alive. We were really close, me and her.” He stopped at that and Russell didn’t press. He just smiled kindly and patted his shoulder comfortingly. The story he and Frank had rehearsed till Gerard could tell it to even Bob or Mikey and they would believe him. It felt bitter; the lie weighing heavily on his tongue. He mentally shook himself; he was on a job, though he felt like scum for lying, or at least partially lying to the priest next to him. The familiar numbness and sick feeling came back like a ripple; it always was silent and reached further out every time he turned his mind back.

     “I’m going to go get some more candles; I’ll be right back.” Russell said softly and Gerard nodded, still feeling slightly numb and sick as he recalled Grace’s death, and Frank’s near death experience on his birthday. Russell smiled and patted his shoulder again sympathetically before going back into the cathedral like church. The walls were suddenly too close, the air too stiff, heavy and musty to breathe properly. He set a few more candles on the wire and wood structure before he escaped outside, breathing in the gritty air and relaxing almost automatically.

   He was itching to light a cigarette, but he quelled that desire quickly lest it blow his cover. Instead, Gerard sat on the steps and put his forehead on his knees, and forced himself to take even breathes. Just then, a man came up the steps, at least it sounded like a man and didn’t raise his head till he felt someone tap his shoulder gently. It was someone from the city council, but as Gerard didn’t spend any time with anyone from that section, as that was Schechter’s, Wentz’s and Stump’s territory, he knew the man wouldn’t recognize him. But he recognized him, well enough. It was Christopher Reese; blonde hair, slight stubble and a drawn look about his face.

   “Do you know where I can find Father Russell?” He asked; his voice sounded as if he had been screaming for hours, non-stop.

  Gerard led him inside the giant wooden doors and said,

   “I’m Father Chris Wren. What’s wrong?” This let the flood gates lose and Reese was suddenly sobbing into his shoulder, holding him tight as Gerard awkwardly patted his back, not exactly sure where to put his hands. He kept repeating, from what Gerard could understand,

   “My fault… It’s all my fault…” At that moment Russell came back, surprise evident as he took in the scene. Gerard shrugged uselessly and tried to get Reese off of him.

   “Uh, Mr. Reese, Father Russell is here.” Reese quickly composed himself and Gerard tried to keep his eyebrows from rising up off his head.

   “Father Russell, I need you to hold a funeral.”

   “For who, my son?” Russell looked worried, moving closer.

    “For my daughter, Claire. She- she was killed a day ago; I only just got back from a business meeting in Colorado that morning. We spoke on the phone, planning to have lunch today… She was barely out of college, Father! Why was she taken?” The man wailed and Russell moved forward, helping the obviously devastated man to his office. Gerard felt his gut twist and quickly sent a text to Frank.

   ‘ _Look up Claire Reese in the morgue. Find out how she died; Her dad just came to the church, there’s going to be a funeral. WTF do I do, btw?!_ ’ His phone vibrated about two minutes later, he was staring into the church, gut churning and he looked around for a moment before answering.

    “Yeah?”

     ‘ _McCracken, Gerard. That was the cause of death. He has his fingerprints all over this; I called Vicky and she said it was supposedly a car accident. Her brakes were cut and when she went into a swerve she went over the edge.’_   

  “Car accident? That doesn’t fit his M.O…’

 _‘That didn’t kill her apparently.’_ Frank’s voice was soft, a harsh edge hiding a ragged tone underneath.

“How could that _not_ have?” Gerard asked, incredulous.

    ‘ _Gee, she was shot in the back, underneath her shirt. The killer did some crafty thing with a few branches and made it look as if she were speared by something. I still don’t know how that happened but this is McCracken’s call.’_ His voice caught like he was going to cough, but swallowed it back.

   “Alright; also, what am I supposed to do for a funeral?!”

   ‘ _Huh? Oh, just stay in the back, organize some things, and offer condolences. See if you can find anyone who would know why Reese’s daughter would be caught up with anyone in McCracken’s gang. The usual. You’ll be fine, Gee. I believe in you._ ’ Gerard felt less then sure of himself but nodded.

   “Ugh, fine. Thanks Frankie.” He could almost hear the smile in his friend’s voice.

    ‘ _No problem Gee. Just go and be your normal detective self, just more tactful.’_

    “You have a problem with my ways, Iero?” 

   ‘ _Who, me? No, but the grieving people and the church might. Like I said before, act like a bartender. Offer a shoulder, an ear to listen or some shit like that and throw in your little half smile and people will sing like little birds.’_

“And you would know this because…”

  ‘ _Gerard, I’ve been your partner for almost a half year. If I have learned anything is that you don’t drive like a sane person, at all, you have a motor mouth, you have a weird sense of justice and have a tendency to go over board occasionally, and you have a disarming quality that makes people open up.’_ He could practically see Frank rolling his eyes, the _well, duh_ implied and lacing every word.

    “Alright. I’ve got to go now Frank.” 

   ‘ _Break a leg. Wait, please don’t take that literally Gee…’_ He laughed and hung up before Frank could say anything else and put his phone back in his pocket.

  He went back inside the church and felt his gut tug again in a sickening way as he watched Reese praying, almost as if je were trespassing. He slid into the pew beside him, keeping his eyes on the altar where a cross and the candles sat, the rose window casting everything in an almost ethereal light.

  “Why, Father?”

   “I’m sorry?”

   “Why did MY daughter have to die? What did I do to deserve such a thing?” The man didn’t look up from his hands and Gerard had no real answer.

    “I don’t know, Mr. Reese. God tends to work in mysterious ways.”

  The broken laugh the man let out echoed, startling Gerard as the sound bounced throughout the arcing ceiling.

    “Oh, I know that. I should have known… I should have known that boy was no good; My Claire… have you heard of Bert McCracken, Father?” He turned suddenly to him, and Gerard had to swallow his tongue, not trusting himself to speak. He nodded slowly, face relaxed but blank.

     “Well, I guess it would be difficult to not have. As Schechter and his two assistants assure the rest of the council and myself; ‘ _We have the best team on the job, Council men._ ’ If Way and Iero were the best that they can scrounge up in that department, I’d laugh. Tell me WHY these two haven’t caught, if I say so myself, the Devil.”

   “They might be doing the best they can; McCracken is famous for being able to disappear.” Gerard defended, keeping his voice level and his face semi-blank.

    “Yeah; and then he comes back and destroys families. I should know; mine was being ripped apart, my wife and I were fighting so much, I prayed that she and I would work out… And now that Claire is gone, we’re closer then ever. This isn’t what I asked for.”

    Gerard could feel bitter bile in the back of his throat as he stared at the man; he was lying about something and bothered him to no end. It had to be his daughter; he would find out soon enough though, He could be patient. The question was, could McCracken be patient before he acted again; Gerard could feel himself getting closer. This idea of Frank’s would hopefully get them a confession, and that would give them enough evidence to bag McCracken and everyone associated with him. He shook himself out of this revere and looked to the cross.

    “God always answers our prayers, just not in ways we expect or even want. Go home, Mr. Reese. I will send a prayer for you and your family.” Reese nodded, eyes gaining a hard shield, but they were so lost. Gerard watched as the broken father pick back up his pieces, face ominously blank and gait strangely confident again. Well, he, Frank and the rest of the force were going to the get shit for this one… He really hoped he hadn’t screwed this up.

     “You handled that well.” Russell’s voice made Gerard jump; he had zoned out, staring at the rose window and the cross as if they held answers.

   “I just told him what I was told. You can’t really say or do anything else, in the grand scheme of things really.” Russell looked at him, gaze calculating before nodding and sitting with a heavy sigh.

    “The funeral will be in about a week; I will need you around as Nick will be out on a mission trip with the Youth Ministry; They’re going over to Ohio to help rebuild houses.” Russell looked at the cross and then clapped Gerard’s shoulder.

    “Well, come along. I’ll show you how to take care of the church; the taxes that must be paid, who must be sent what letters, and how to take care of the gardens. We don’t hire out people to care for them, though occasionally we have the patrons and all our congregation come out and help us; it’s great fun. But that’s the basics of what you’ll have to do.”

    “Alright; lead the way, Father Russell.” Gerard put on a winning smile and followed Russell as he led him to the back office. Gerard leaned over Russell’s shoulder and watched as he typed in a username and password into a ancient computer, the screen flickering to life like a light bulb that had barely any power left inside. Russell showed him how to send off the emails to the right people, mainly the churches newsletters, reminders for Youth Ministry leaders to bring the money for the trip two days before to make sure that it was in the right account, for the appropriate families to be notified that they had an important date coming up, usually something they signed up for or volunteered for. He left Gerard to write up the letter about Claire, at least the outline. He found a picture of her in one of the online newsletters and felt his gut wrench.

   The girl had to be at least twenty, surrounded by little kids as she and another girl sat on swings, their faces split from laughter. The sunlight made a back-light to them, her blonde hair becoming a halo and her bright green eyes lit up by something close to joy. A few people in the background but there was one that stood out and as Gerard looked closer he nearly had a heart attack. There, sitting in the shade of the tree with a guitar slung over his knees was none other then his partner, Frank Iero. He looked so damn young too… Did he know her? Were they close? And holy shit, he had just pretty much told him one of his friends was dead as if she were just another piece of the case… Oh god, he was tactless! He would have to talk to Frank when he got back.

   He turned on a printer beside the monitor and printed out the picture, planning on asking him later or just looking into it his own way. As the picture slowly printed, he opened a blank document on a really old version of Word and began to type out a rough outline. He put down what he would have said for Grace, if he had known the girl, but seeing as he didn’t… God damn it, this was annoying and actually very hard. Gerard sighed and ran a hand through his hair, then before he could stop himself, he pasted the outline and the main points of what people said in such articles into an email and sent it to himself, hoping he could rope Frank into helping him with it. He saw there were no more people to be sent emails, powered down the ancient monitor and the set box it was attached too.  

   “Are you done?” Russell asked, coming in as Gerard laid his head on the cluttered desk. He looked up and nodded.

   “Father Russell, I don’t mean to pry, but who is this boy in the background?” He pointed to the picture, where Frank sat in the background, smile on his face as the guitar sat across his lap.

    “Why, that is Frank Iero. Poor boy lost his family. This was taken a few years ago; he would have been in his sophomore year of high school. Claire was good friend of his, at least before the accident. Claire,” he pointed to the laughing girl, “Was about seventeen. She always looked older then she was, many complimented her on her maturity. Frank would have been about sixteen, I think at this time. His father and mother were so good to him, even though he lost his belief shortly after the accident. I haven’t seen or heard from him in years, I wonder how he’s doing. I was his Youth Minister, you know. Such a bright, kind teenager, always played practical jokes but he was a good kid at heart. I hope he’s alright now.” Russell stared at the picture wistfully then came further into the small, cluttered office. He rooted through some papers and pulled out a photograph; there were two lines of kids, ranging from nine to nineteen, but Gerard spotted Frank easily. He wore a suit and tie outfit, but there was a scorpion on his neck, and an arm around another kids shoulders. He had short, dark brown hair and almost the same outfit as Frank, dark suit, white shirt, black tie, and a smile on his face. Claire he spotted on the right of the duo, in a bright orange and yellow dress that made her seem to shine.

   “Frank Iero… What did he do, exactly, with Claire?” 

 “They were very good friends, that boy there, next to Frank, is Mike Pedicone. He died in an accident; a drive by shooting, when he was only eighteen years old. He saved a boy named Travis McCoy form being shot; Frank told me at the funeral that they were coming to get him and a Brendon Urie from his work place, a small record shop.” Father Russell looked at the picture a bit longer then sighed and placed it on the desk again, then turned back to Gerard with a smile.

    “Well, the garden won’t take care of herself. You can take the Sunday shifts, in the afternoon, can’t you? Nick has a bad knee and I can’t bend down that far. We water our plants daily but Sunday afternoons are when we weed, fix and prune the gardens.” Gerard nodded, and sighed.

   He had been here maybe two hours and he was already tired. He really didn’t want to see what a week or more would do to him… But he could garden; gardening is a thing he could do, quite easily in fact. He smiled, genuinely this time, as Russell opened the back doors and revealed a long path that lead to a small-gated area. Inside, it was almost like Eden, or as close as you could get in the plant world, as all spectrums of colors, all types of flowers and a few trees grew there, making Gerard once again itch for a pencil and paper.

   “Well, today you don’t need to do much; just look for any sickly plants, water the ones that need it, and maybe have a few conversations with them. God may hear them and the flowers, as my mother used to say, take in your worries and give you an enlightenment.” Russell touched a white lily that looked almost serene in the dappled light of an oak, a fond look etching its way across his face.

    “Well, here are the keys to the shed if you should need anything, and come in when you’re finished. I’ll be in the main part of the church if you have any questions.” And like that, Gerard was alone with the plants, his thoughts and chaotic emotions.

    “Well, let’s see who needs what, shall we?” He moved slowly throughout the garden, mentally marking which pants needed more water and which needed to be pruned, weeded or moved to a different spot. Finally, after he had watered and weeded the major area’s, it was almost late afternoon. Gerard looked at his hands and brushed the majority of the dirt off, then walked over to the hose and washed off the rest. As he began his journey back through the garden, he spotted two elderly people, a male and female, presumably husband and wife, followed by Reese and who he suspected to be his wife, and a few younger people, females and males. Classmates and friends then. Gerard closed the gate behind him and headed back towards the church. One male, a bit taller and lankier then the rest, held back by the doors, looking up at the steeple as if it were going to tell him something.

  “Are you okay?”

   “Huh? Oh, yeah… It’s just really hard to think that Claire is… Is gone.” He had dark brown hair, white, maybe about twenty-five, twenty-six with light brown eyes. His eyes interested Gerard the most; they held steel in them that looked brittle, as if it were only a few well-placed cracks away from breaking and releasing the flood. Not quite the look of a guilty person or someone who was hiding something; they looked more like he was trying to be strong for Claire, to be a rock but was slowly being eroded.

   “What’s your name?”

   “I’m Tyson, Tyson Ritter. I was Claire’s friend. Her boyfriend is over there,” he pointed to a gangly looking kid, black hair, slightly hunched shoulders sitting on the steps who everyone was avoiding, groups huddled like the halls of high school. A few people came over to pat his shoulder and murmur what would be condolences to him. He would nod slowly, like he was trapped in gelatin, robotic and jerky then they would leave him alone again. He buried his head as people came closer, and the groups started to bank away from him.

   “Thanks, Tyson. If you ever want to talk, I’m Father Chris.” Tyson nodded and went over to a group of three males and two females and one of the girls turned to him and hugged him close, crying into Tyson’s chest. Gerard looked away, knowing he couldn’t watch and jogged up the steps to the kid. His arms were folded on his knees, his head buried ostrich style and he didn’t react when Gerard moved silently next to him, tapping his shoulder.

    “Can I sit with you?” Gerard asked, quiet and steady. The kid looked up and seemed to focus on Gerard then nodded, head dropping back to his arms but his chin remained propped up this time.

  “What’s your name?” He asked gently.

  “Nick… Nick Wheeler. Who are you?”

   “I’m Father Chris. I heard you were Claire’s boyfriend.”

   “What? Are you going to say you’re sorry now? Cause everybody else has been doing that, and it isn’t doing a thing. “

    “No; I know how it feels to lose someone important to you; that feeling of emptiness, as if the world were laughing at you while you suffer, and everyone tries to say that it’ll be okay, that they’re all sorry for your loss. Either they know what it’s like and they know how you feel or they don’t know, it doesn’t matter. Everything seems wrong without them there, and then your normalcy is gone. So trust me when I say that yes, I know you feel.” Nick looked at Gerard, and he knew he had him hooked.

   Nick had light hazel eyes that looked to be almost like Frank’s when he first met him; chaotic, confused and swirling with so much emotion it was practically running over the edges, like paint. But this kid had a less resolute edge and more fear, but less sadness then Frank. But there was an edge to it that seem like he was ready to do anything.

   “Come on inside; Mr. Reese and Father Russell will be explaining the funeral preparations. And Nick, if you ever want to talk to someone, without being judged, just come and see me, alright?” His voice was sincere, calm, quiet. Nick stood and nodded, leading the way inside. The groups seemed to take this as a signal ad broke up, two or three people at most staying together and they filed into the church. Gerard sighed, running his hands through his hair and almost succeeded in messing it up a bit before following the group inside.

   Russell pulled Gerard aside and Nick and Reese went through with everyone an idea of what was going to happen for the funeral.

    “The funeral will be in one week; Mr. Reese has already begun to plan everything out with his wife on who does what, if anyone wants to say anything on behalf of Claire is welcome to; they have to email Mrs. Reese and all, our organ player is helping them choose the music to play; you don’t have to do a sermon if you don’t want to. Do you?” He looked at Gerard and he quickly shook his head.

   “I didn’t know her so I think it would be right for me to speak for her. I know a few people in NJPD, I think I heard them talking about an Iero joining recently. I can ask them to tell him about Claire and if Mr. and Mrs. Reese would like for him to come to the funeral.” Russell looked him in the eyes and Gerard could have sworn he was smiling and then nodded.

  “I’ll talk to them; But you’ll still be here, correct?” Gerard nodded and Russell clapped him on the shoulder, smile small and a bit grim.

   “Good. Then you can go on the back office and work some more if you want. It’s just through the door by the altar, last door down the hall on your left. I don’t think you really want to hear all of this.” Gerard nodded gratefully and slipped, quiet as a whisper in a room full of ghosts to the back office, going through the door by the altar and followed Russell’s directions. Frank had left a note on the mirror that read,

   ‘ _Brendon called in a lead and they apparently needed me… This is bull shit, but whatever. I’ll call if anything happens. Be safe and be cautious, Gee. A lot of people are in McCracken’s gang and he recruits young._

_Xoxo Frnk’_

Gerard took the sticky note off the reflective surface and breathed in the smell of musty Bibles and hymn books, the cracked plaster and mothball smell coming from the closet where old robes for the choir and altar boys hung. Dust settled on the stacks of black books, another ancient computer monitor sat on a desk, a couch and table adjacent. Gerard felt out of place still, black clothes weren’t different but the white collar around his neck his reflection wore seemed to be mocking him. The reflection blinked and moved as he did, looked the exact same as he did but it wasn't _him;_ it wasn’t Gerard Way, detective for New Jersey Police Department. It was a man with short black hair that wore black clothes and a white collar, and was helping plan a funeral. He felt dizzy and backed away from the mirror, the room spinning as he tried to focus on one thing. He leaned against the wall and focused on breathing the strangely comforting smell of plaster, musty books, and mothballs. His phone vibrated sharply against his thigh, dragging him back to reality.

    “Way here.”

     ‘ _Gee, holy crap holy shit! I don’t even know what happened I left for like a minute and then hewasjustonthefloorandIdon’tknowwhathappened! WhatthefuckamIsupppsedtodo?!!?’_

“Mikey, it’s okay, it’s okay… Slow down, take a breath, firstly. What happened?” Gerard had never heard his brother talk so fast in his entire life and it scared him; what happened?

   ‘ _Okay… I don’t know what happened; He came over to check some of the cases against what they found at the scene and then he asked if I could go and find a file that had one of the older cases. I left for like, a minute and he was just on the floor, coughing and trying to breathe! I don’t know what to do!”_

“Mikes, who?” Gerard could begin to guess, feeling bile rise into his throat as the ideas narrowed down.

    ‘ _Frank, you idiot!’_

 _‘I’m fine, Gerard!_ ’ He heard Frank’s cough rough voice in the background and Spencer snap,

_‘Like hell you are, Iero! Don’t even try to get up!’_

“I’ll be there in ten.” He said and then hung up. Gerard had to control himself to be sure he didn’t go sprinting for the doors, his hands shaking as he opened the door by the altar and instantly spotted Father Russell.

    “Father Russell, I have to go, I’m so sorry.”    

   “What is it, Chris?” He asked, breaking away from the group.

    “It’s my brother; he needs me like, now.” Russell nodded, helping him dodge around the grieving and whispering people as they sat in pews, trying to plan out what to do for a funeral of a girl that was so obviously loved it made Gerard’s heart twist painfully. Russell quietly deterred people away from him and Gerard and then opened the door for him, strong wrinkled hands on his shoulders squeezing gently.

  “God be with you and your brother. I’m sure he will be fine, Chris.”

  “Thank you, Father Russell.” He smiled and pushed Gerard out, towards the stairs.

   “Go on; I’ll see you tomorrow for Tuesday Mass, will I not? You have to help me set up everything for the morning, don’t forget. Also, Mrs. Reese said that seeing Frank would be wonderful, and if you could pass that along to him it would be greatly appreciated.”  

   “I’ll be here at six, no problem. And I’ll make sure Frank Iero is here as well, don’t worry. Just forward me the email or the details soon as they’re arranged and I’ll give them to his partner.”  Gerard was going to shoot him in the foot for this, he just knew it. Russell waved goodbye and shut the doors, the echoing sound bouncing around inside muffled, like a congregation at Mass.

  Gerard ran down the steps and over around the side to the parking lot, keys out in a second as he neared his Mazda and practically jumped inside. The brisk wind made him shiver and crank up the heat soon as the engine roared to life. When he turned on the radio to fill in for his worried and slightly panicked thoughts, Christmas carols came on. It then hit him how close it was to Christmas; he had two weeks before it arrived and he had been so wrapped in the case and learning the crash course of becoming a priest that he had pretty much forgotten. Gerard shook these thoughts away and filed them under ‘Things that will be taken care of after current emergency’ which in this case was Frank. He pushed the speed limits and knew that he was going to get in trouble with Bob later but he could deal with it; Frank was either sick or dying and he was going to strangle his partner soon as he could. He turned on his sirens and as he promised Mikey, he was at the firm’s building ten minutes. He slowed down in the parking lot, thanking the parking gods for the spot right up front and soon as his car was in park, Gerard was out the door, barely remembering to put on his coat and scarf.

    He quickly wound the grey wool scarf around his neck and zipped up his jacket then sprinted for the doors. The receptionist smiled at him as he skidded to a halt in front of the desk, pointing to the elevator and holding up six fingers, phone pressed between her shoulder and ear. He smiled fleetingly and raced to the elevators, pressed the big black ‘6’ and refrained from pacing in the confined space, anxiety rising as the numbers flashed. The doors opened on floor six and Gerard sprinted down the hall to the double French doors and dodged around people as he ran through the office, looking for Spencer or Mikey in the sea of people as they moved around. The smell of coffee came form his left, the break room. Gerard turned on his heel and practically bowled Mikey over as he came into the hall. He didn’t need to be shown where Frank was, just ran into the room and over to the couch, launching himself at his partner. Gerard was pretty much straddling Frank’s lap, holding him close and felt Frank’s arms slide around his waist.

   “Gee, I’m fine.” Frank tried to say but Gerard just looked at him and he closed his mouth.

  Gerard put his forehead against Frank’s and frowned at the heat that seemed to come from him.

     “You. Are. An. Idiot. Frank Iero.” He punctuated each word as if that would drive it further into Frank’s head.

    “Alright, home, now. I’m not having my brother and his partner getting the plaque. Gerard, take Frank home and for the love of God, Frank don’t scare us like that EVER again.” Frank glared half-heartedly but seemed to notice the worried tone in Mikey’s voice and how shaken he looked and backed down.

   “Come on, let’s go.” He pushed Gerard so he could stand and leaned a bit against his shoulder. Gerard put and arm around Frank’s shoulders and as they got to the elevator hugged him again.

    “Gee...” Frank started but Gerard didn’t let go. Instead he said,

    “I’m sorry for everything, Frankie.” Frank looked like he wanted to answer or argue or even ask WHAT Gerard meant but before he could the elevator doors opened and there were four other people with them so he contented himself with Gerard’s unnaturally cold hands and the quirt hum of the elevator as Gerard breathed steadily. Gerard gave Frank a worried glance and promised himself that as soon as he was better, he was going to _strangle_ him for almost giving him a heart attack. A minute later, the lobby came into view as the doors slid open.

   “Hey, Frankie, come on, you have to wake up.” His partner had fallen asleep on his shoulder, leaning heavily on his side and almost making Gerard fall over.

   “Mmph. Fine.” He yawned and blinked awake, then walked out into the lobby under his own power, Gerard a step behind him. Gerard pulled open the door and watched Frank carefully as they walked to the car, the biting wind blowing straight through them. Gerard opened the doors to the car before Frank even reached it and smiled as he saw Frank practically leap into the seat, huddling down as if it would protect him from the cold. Gerard followed his idea and soon as he was in the car, jammed the key into the ignition and cranked up the heat. They waited for the heat to start before turning on the radio and heading home.

   Gerard looked over at Frank as they turned onto Main Street; he was fast asleep. Gerard sighed and forced himself to not worry. Frank got sick a lot, this was probably another cold that would pass within the week. He texted Brendon and Bob that Frank would be out tomorrow and Wednesday because he was sick then turned down the music. Gerard drove the speed limit all the way home, time passing through the number of songs that played softly and soon as he turned into his drive way nudged Frank awake. He smiled as Frank curled further into the seat, not planning on moving, mumbling something that sounded like,

    “Five more minutes mom. ‘m tired...” Gerard huffed a laugh at that and pressed his icy fingers underneath Frank’s shirt, sliding them upwards. Frank yelped and leaped upwards, awake in a second. He turned and glared at Gerard, who merely grinned and shrugged.

   “What?”

   “Asshole.” Frank muttered before seeming to gather his courage and jumped out of the car and raced towards the front door. Gerard bundled back up and raced to the front door where Frank had disappeared into, happy yapping coming from inside the house.

     “Frank, I’m ordering take out.” He called soon as he entered the front hall, headed straight for the kitchen and shedding layers as he went till he was left in nothing more than his shirt, jeans and bare feet. Marie came bounding from the den as Gerard picked up the phone, demanding to be petted and adored. Frank whistled sharply twice and Marie went bounding away, barking happily and a loud, “Oofff!” came from Frank, Gerard smiled widely and dialed the number for Chinese. After twenty minutes of explaining to Miss Won that yes, he was eating enough, and yes, he was FINE, did he place their order and hang up. When Gerard was finally able to join Frank in the den, he saw the small man was half asleep, wearing two hoodies, both zipped up and hoods pulled low over his face. Gerard sighed and pivoted on his heel, back tracking to the hall to the linen closet and grabbed as many blanket as his arms could hold, then made his way back over to Frank where Marie and Peppers had joined him on the couch. He shooed them away and got a few angry yaps for his trouble, then pulled Frank to his feet. He opened an eye and yawned, leaning heavily against Gerard, burrowing against his neck.

     “Come on, Frankie; stand on your own for a minute then we can put in a movie and eat Chinese, yeah?” Frank grunted and crossed his arms but he let Gerard make a nest on the couch with the fluffy and blankets then help him take off his two hoodies. Once free, Frank just fell backwards into the nest, curling automatically into a ball and pulling one of the outer blankets over top of him. Gerard snorted and moved over to his, admittedly impressive and epic, collection of DVD’s.

   “What movie shall it be tonight from the Crucible of Epic, Astounding and overwhelming proportions Collection Bookcase of Movies of All Time?” Gerard asked, not bothering to turn around.

   “Original Dawn of the Dead.” Frank muttered but Gerard had anticipated this and grabbed the movie as he said it, popping open the case and putting it in the player. Frank turned the T.V on and selected the correct channel and Gerard sprinted back across the room to his spot beside Frank, which had been taken by the dogs, and nudged the pair over so he could get comfortable. Peppers jumped right into Frank’s lap while Marie decided to stretch out on the other side of Gerard, head on his legs as he curled up next to Frank. Frank, obviously not as tired as he first portrayed, shifted until he was lying comfortably against Gerard’s shoulder, lower half curled like an armadillo. The movie didn’t even pass the first chapter when the doorbell rang and the dogs were up, leaping off the couch and barking, racing to get to the door. Gerard extracted himself from the nest of warmth and comfort and went to get their food.

  “Hey, thank you.” He said soon as he opened the door. The kid nodded and said,

  “Twenty bucks, mister.” Gerard gave him twenty-five and as the kid tried to give it back said,

  “Keep the change.” He smiled widely and then shut the door, his stomach rumbling loudly at the tantalizing smell of fried rice and Lo Mien. Peppers and Marie ran in between his feet as he grabbed two cans of Coke and made his way back into the den where Frank was watching Dawn of the Dead, half awake and almost falling off the couch.

   “Frankie, I bring the gift of Chinese take-out.” He sat up immediately and leaned forward, making grabby hands at the brown bag Gerard held. Gerard smiled and handed him his vegetarian box; veggie chow mein, and fried vegtables in fried rice. He ordered Lo Mein with orange sauce and fried rice. Frank returned to his postion against Gerard and grunted in displeasure when he shifted to hnad him a can of Coke. They were silent as the movie played out, finishing dinner quickly and leaving the boxes on the table in front of them, the soads slowly warming in their hands as the zombies advanced towards a poor civilian.

  “Best part of the movie coming right up here…” Frank muttered, eyes glued to the screen. An old man in a sombreo sat down, apparently oblvious to the advancing horde of zombies, and took his blood pressure. Gerard never quite understood the reasoning behind that but it was possibly the best part in the entire movie. The man’s blood and guts went everywhere as the horde descended but Frank was grinning like a mad man, screen illuminating his face and making the tanned skin look pale and soft. Gerard tore his eyes away from his partner’s face, hands itching for his sketch pad again to draw the way the shadows reflected aginst his face and pulled Frank against him; he went easily, pressing himself into Gerard’s side and placing his finished can down on the table beside the couch. He stole Gerard’s as he became distracted by the dogs when they jumped onto the couch and moved across his lap to Frank’s side, Maire yapping at Peppers as she curled up against Frank’s legs, then settled down herself in Gerard’s lap.

  Finally the credits began to roll and Frank groaned in pain. Gerard, having become used to Frank being in various stages of illness, was up in a second and went over to the bathroom, immediately spotting the Advil coated pills, grabbing two and filled a glass with water in one of the few glasses that didn’t have paint residue in it and in record time was back at Frank’s side, rubbing his back as he swallowed the pills dry then washed them away with the water, body relaxing. He was half asleep as T.V screen went back to the opening title screen of the movie and Gerard stretched.

   “Come on, we have an early day tomorrow…” He muttered and pulled his practially limp partner to his feet, guiding him to the bedroom and shakinghim a bit.

    “Frankie… Come on babe, stay awake for another few minutes, kay?” Frank shook his head quickly and stripped out of his jeans and shirt, stealing a pair of Gerard’s sweat pants and a shirt then disappeared down the hall to the bathroom. Gerard changed in a hoodie and skeleton sweats, too lazt to find his actual skeleton pajamas. The calander that was pinned to his wall was taunting him as the circled date of ‘DECEMBER 25th’ glared back at him; he had little over three weeks before the holiday. And he had to do all of his shopping for all his family, and Frank, and then also worry about McCracken. Hopefully the funeral preperations would go by quickly and McCracken would be caught and he could take a break.

    “What do you think Marie, Peppers? Do you think that we’ll get lucky?”

   Marie jumped onto the bed and looked at him as though Gerard had grown three heads, each one speaking a different language. Peppers sneezed twice before burrowing under the covers, sneezing again, and settling. Gerard rolled his eyes and went to the bathroom to quickly brush his teeth. Frank passed him in the hall, flashed him a smile before yawning a jaw cracking yawn and disappearing into the bedroom. Gerard sighed and ran his figners through his hair then quickly brushed his teeth and turned off the light, the cold air making him shiver slightly. If he had any dignity left, Gerard would have walked back to his room but as it was cold enough at the moment for his skin to ripple in goose bumps, he walked very quickly, jogged really, back to his room and dove under the covers. Frank laughed at him and Marie barked indignatedly as she was unfairly shifted and almost fell off the bed.

   Silence fell as Frank’s laugh faded into the dark room and Gerard stretched out on his back, eyes focusing on the celing.

   “Hey, Gee…” Frank’s voice was soft in the dark, but strong like the light from a full moon.

  “The Reese’s invited you to the funeral.” He cut in before Frank could say or ask anything.

    “…. Claire’s funeral.”    

  “Yeah.” He turned on his side and faced his partner, hands itching to yank him close. Frank beat him to it, though in a much less dramatic way. He wormed closer so that his head fit underneath Gerard’s chin and he felt Frank shaking slightly, wet trails soaking through his shirt to his chest.

   “What did you mean, you were sorry for everything. What did you mean by that?” Frank mumbled and Gerard sighed heavily at the thought.

   “I’m sorry that I’m a horrible partner and the fact that I can’t seem to keep my promises when I told you that we would catch McCracken before he could cause anymore serious damage, though that was probably a bit high of an expectation, even for me. I’m sorry that nothing can go our way when we need it to and how much you’re hurting and the fact that I can’t fucking help you. I almost got you killed… Twice now, Frank. Christ…”

  “Gerard, you’re an idiot.” Frank said after a long pause. “You’re an idiot and an ass. But you’re also my partner and my best friend and you should know tht you can’t control everyhting. Yes, I’m sad that Claire is gone, she was a good friend but I swear on my families graves that we will fucking catch Bert fucking McCracken, no matter what, and we WILL stop him alright? I’m tired of being broken, alright? Fucking tired of it all… But I have you, and you are my best fucking friend and partner and you help. A lot more than you know, alright? I trust you with my life and I know I’ve endangered your life once or twice myself; we’re insane with a persoanl vendetta against him so we’re going to get hurt. So get some sleep, you moron.” Frank yawned and burrowed into Gerard’s chest, making him curl protectively around his frail partner and Gerard fell into black, the thought of  ‘ _How did I fall this deep?_ ‘ the last thing that haunted his mind before he fell.

++++++++++++

     The planning for the funeral went by surprisingly fast for Gerard while Frank stayed in the back office that also doubled as the choir room so he would often have to hide in the closet whenever someone other than Gerard came back to fetch books or to look something up on the ancient monitor. Gerard went through it all in a haze, but he did learn that Tyson and Nick knew the name ‘Frank Iero’ as Tyson looked mournful and a bit more depressed then he did usually for Claire while Nick looked torn between lost and pissed but both men covered the emotions quickly. One of Claire’s friend, Chloe, was very open about what Claire did and actually cried into Gerard’s shoulder as he awkwardly patted her shoulder, not exactly sure where to put his hands. The weather outside got colder and Frank was a little better, i.e he didn’t have another coughing fit like he did as Mikey’s office so Gerard tried not to worry too much.

   Strangely, Gerard found time to shop for his family members; Ray, Ryan, Brendon, Jon, Spencer, Bob, Brian, Lindsey, Ryland, Nate, Alex, Gabe, Will, Jamia, Joe, and Andy among them. Frank he had made something for him; something that had taken weeks, and several people, to ensure every detail was present and correct. He really hoped Frank liked it…

  Finally, the day came and Frank looked blankly ahead in the car, fidgeting with his tie and cuffs, fedora pulled low over his eyes.

   “Frankie, stop messing with it. You look fine.” Gerard scolded and Frank sighed, irritated and put upon. But Gerard knew the little tells of him too well; his drumming fingers itching for a cigarette, legs crossing and uncrossing. He took his hat off a few times to run his hands through his recently tamed hair and Gerard rolled his eyes.

   “Dude, seriously, you’re fine. Reese and his wife will be fine with you there, I’ll be there the entire time, all right? And Russell yesterday, when I talked to him, seemed excited that you were coming.” Frank’s lips twitched into a smile and he instinctively went to mess with his lip ring only for his sharp teeth to bite on bare skin. His piercing’s sat in the breast pocket of his blazer and Frank grunted, annoyed. Gerard ignored him as they pulled up to the church and parked near the front; he was enjoying the privilege that the clergy had of close parking.

  The day was cold and clear but that didn’t make the wind any less biting. Frank wound Gerard’s scarf tightly around his neck and Gerard pulled on a thick winter jacket, zipping it up so his nose was buried in the warmth and they shared a look, silently counting down from three before they bolted from the car and up the steps to the doors. They slowed just before they entered the church, Frank straightening out his blazer and jamming his hands into his pockets as Gerard opened the heavy wooden doors and lead Frank over to the coat closet. He hung up his jacket and stuffed the scarf into one of its pockets.

  He felt Frank shake slightly beside him before steeling himself and breathing deeply; Gerard looked down the aisle at Russell and the family members, the friends as they sat in the pews. The black coffin sat in the front and Gerard felt a wave of nausea over come him as he stared at it. He watched Frank walk slowly, silently, down the aisle and slide into a pew beside Tyson and his girlfriend, Anna both who looked surprised for a moment before turning back to the sermon.

  A hand tapped his shoulder and Gerard turned and was surprised to see Nick standing there, the priest handing him the ball of incense and pointing him down the aisle as the organ music started up. Gerard gulped but nodded and kept time with the solemn tune as he walked slowly down towards Claire, the incense swinging back and forth like a pendulum. When he did arrive at the coffin, he paused and did the cross over his body but felt his eyes glued to her face. She was unnaturally pale but her hair surrounded her like captured sunlight, her lips turned upwards slightly in a smile. They were tinted blue and her eyes had lightened grey circles. He stood there for only a moment longer as he did the cross, eyes taking in everything they could before he moved away and people in the pews came lining up for the viewing.

  Gerard stood off to the side, just within the shadows of the altar and watched Frank’s face transform into a somber twist, the bitter agony apparent as he did a small cross over his upper body and then a small ‘x’ over his heart, like he was remembering a childhood promise. The sermon progressed as everyone returned to their seats and Gerard sang with everyone when Russell said to, bowed his head but didn’t pray. He saw Frank’s hand though as his elbows rested on the pew in front of him tighten around his rosary and his face go blank as people went up to say a few words about Claire. He didn’t move from his seat and just stared at the rose window as the weak sunlight filtered through the stained glass.

   As the pallbearers took out the coffin, the congregation followed and Frank hung to the back, waiting for Gerard without being too obvious. The six black clad men lead the way through the grass to the cemetery, the wrought iron fence garden on the group’s left, the grass muffling their footsteps. As they neared the cemetery, Gerard noticed the gaping maw of the ground, a tree over casting its shadow from the weak sunlight. They placed the coffin down and Frank stood with everyone else as it was lowered into the ground; a sunflower clutched in his hand. Everyone there, friends, family, classmates who knew her well, even Brian, Pete and Patrick were there, placed a flower in the grave. When it was Frank’s turn, Gerard was standing just to the left of him so he heard the whispered words of,

   “I’m so sorry, Claire… You never deserved this. I hope you find some sunshine where you go.”  Brian clapped a hand on Frank’s shoulder as he returned to the group and Russell said the final words.

  “May God watch over her soul as it transcends to heaven and her soul rest in peace. Amen.”    

  “Amen.” Everyone echoed. Slowly, people edged away until it was only Nick, Tyson, Mr. and Mrs. Reese, Father Russell, Frank and Gerard; Brian, Pete and Patrick standing a bit away. Frank stared hollowly at the mound of fresh earth as though it had swallowed him whole and Gerard moved to his right side, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Mr. Reese was shaking as his wife stared sadly at the grave, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief as tears ran freely.

   “This is your fault, Iero. Had you been more careful, had caught McCracken, than my baby girl would still be here. You and your partner can’t catch the man, and now how many more families will be ripped apart because of this murder? This Shadow Devil?” Mr. Reese said to Frank’s back as he stood over the grave, head bowed. He was silent for a long time after that and it wasn’t until they made a move to leave that he spoke. 

   “Reese… I know I can’t say anything to make this better. So all I will say is that my partner and I will catch Bert McCracken, no matter what it takes.” Frank said softly as they turned to go. It made Mrs. Reese pause and turn back but there was a knowing look in her eyes as she nodded.

    “I know, dear. Thank you.” Reese kept his back stiff as he walked away. Gerard watched him go and wiped away a few of the tears that fell as he felt Russell’s hand on his shoulder, drawing him away a bit.

  “Thank you, Chris, for finding Frank. I will speak to him later, if you can keep him around?” 

  “I think it would be best to talk to him now. From what his partner and my brother told me, he wasn’t doing to well…” Russell nodded and moved over to Frank, who was keeping his head bowed, fedora low over his eyes as he placed another sunflower on Claire’s grave.

  “Frank Iero.” Russell said softly and Frank didn’t budge. Russell sighed and put an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into his side for a second before releasing him and saying,

   “I’m glad you’re still safe. Come by any time if you want to talk, Frankie.” He nodded numbly and Russell patted Gerard’s shoulder, shook hands with Brian, Patrick and Pete, who looked the most serious Gerard had ever seen him in recent months, and then headed inside the church. Gerard was at Frank’s side in an instant and pulled his hand from his pocket, the rosary pressing in between their palms and leaving a mark on them. Frank didn’t move and Gerard heard him humming softly ‘You are my Sunshine, my only sunshine.’ Gerard waited a few beats and then sang softly with him,

**You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.**

**You make me happy when skies are grey.**

**You’ll never know dear, how much I love you.**

**So please don’t take my sunshine away.**

**So please don’t take my sunshine away.**

**So please don’t take my sunshine away.**

    “Come on Frankie… Let’s go home.” He nodded and leaned heavily against Gerard, Pete and Patrick silent as they gave the small man a brief hug, Brian holding Frank for a bit longer before squeezing his shoulder and then walking away with the duo. Gerard lead Frank over to the garden and through the winding path of woodchips, quiet and the only noise the biting wind as it went through them and the trees overhead.

   “I’m sorry Gerard…”

    “Don’t Frankie. It’s not your fault, no matter what anyone says. Let’s just go get our things then go home, yeah?”

Frank smiled for the first time that day.

   “Yeah, okay.”

+++++

    Gerard yawned and looked blurrily at his watch. It was seven o’clock in the goddamn morning on a Saturday… Who the hell came to church on Saturday’s anyways?! It had been a week since Claire had been buried and Frank was a bit more like his normal self but that morning he looked like absolute shit. Gerard tried to get him to stay home but Frank ignored him, as usual, and went back to hiding in the back office/choir room. He was pulled from his thoughts when he heard the door to the office opening.

   “Chris?” Russell called from the office.

   “Yeah?” He walked over quickly in case he was being let off early… Cause if he was, then he could get Frank home and bundled up in blankets and maybe even get Toro to knock him out so that he would fucking SLEEP.

     “I need to go; a family emergency has come up. Can you look after the church for a while?” Gerard nodded and Russell was already pulling on his coat and scarf, repeatedly apologizing and excusing himself but Gerard waved them all away.

  “Some time with my thoughts is nice.” He smiled and Russell was out of the doors faster than Gerard could blink after that. He shook his head and went to the altar, clearing things here and there, dusting a bit. After about an hour of fixing the hymn books and the prayer books and his brain starting to leak out of his ears did slip to the back room.

   “Frankie… For the love of my soul and what little sanity I have left, save me!” He cried, flinging the door open. Frank looked up form his laptop, a smirk appearing on his face.

    “You’re the priest; aren’t you supposed to be saving MY soul?”

     “Fuck you, Iero. What did I do to deserve such treatment?” Gerard moaned as Frank pushed him off the couch. Gerard stood and went to the mirror, making sure that he didn’t have anything on his face when Frank suddenly gasped and shouted,

    “Oh, fuck yes!” before he broke off into a coughing fit. Gerard was at his side in an instant, rubbing his back and giving him a bottle of water, checked his temperature by pressing his hand on his forehead then against his own. As his fit subsided, Gerard asked,

   “What is it boy? Did you see something?”

     “That’s one of McCracken’s guys cars. The silver Lexus? Gee, that’s one of his guys right fucking now! Go out there right now and get that fucking confession.” Frank hissed, pressing the recorder into Gerard’s pocket then pushing him out the door.

    “Watch the language. You’re not supposed to swear in the House of God.” Gerard could almost _hear_ the eye roll before Frank pushed him out the door and closed it behind him. Gerard brushed off his clothes and flattened his slightly unruly hair; he hadn’t gotten it cut for almost two weeks now and it was starting to grow wild again. Calmly as he could, he grabbed a hymnbook that had been left in the hall, probably by him, as he was too tired to put it back or something like that.

    “Hello?” He called as he opened the door by the altar.

     “Father Chris?” It was Nick Wheeler, Claire’s ex-boyfriend!

   ‘ _Why is he here? Never mind that, Gerard, get the reason now!_ ’ he shook his head and put an easy smile on his face.

    “Yes, Nick? What’s the matter?” He placed the book in a random pew and watched Nick squirm for a minute underneath his gaze.

    “I-I know it’s late, but I wanted to wait for Mass to end… I have a confession to make.” Gerard nodded and lead him over to the confession booth where Nick climbed in on one side, Gerard the other.

     “Now, what seems to be troubling you, Nick?” He silently turned on the recorder and waited in silence for a few minutes.

    “Nick? You know you can tell me anything right? It won’t be heard by anyone else besides you, God and me. Father Russell is gone and won’t be back for a few hours. It’s just the Lord and us. “   

  “I am, or I was, in a gang, Father. The man, he said that I could protect my friends, protect Tyson, if I joined and I didn’t question it; I just did. He… He made me do horrible things after about a year; I was just a messenger with a good friend of mine, Frank Iero but I haven’t heard from him since Junior year in high school. He said that Frankie… That Frank was six feet under. I didn’t ask, but I grieved. Then he was here, a week ago, at Claire’s funeral. I don’t know what to say to that, cause he’s now in the police force and I can’t reach him but he probably thinks I’m still in.”

  “What else do you want to tell me, my son?”  

 There was a long pause, then,

    “Bert McCracken, Father. He was the one who made me kill Senator Riley’s son, Kevin Hill,  Judge Winter’s wife, Laura Winter and he had me kill City Hall chairman Reese’s daughter, Claire Reese. Bert McCracken, Father Chris, was the one who ordered me and another man, Jesse, to do it. He was ready to go; said that he was dissappointed that he didn’t get to kill Frankie’s family but that he devlivered the note to him. I never shot anyone, I was just the messenger…” he stopped suddenly and Gerard could hear sniffling, as if Nick wasn’t trying to cry.

  Gerard felt sick and strangely estatic. He would worry about Nick later, when he had McCracken. If news came out that he squealed, before they got to the man, then Nick would be shot and Gerard knew his own life, along with his family’s, would be in danger.

   “These are heavy confessions, Nick. Did you take any joy or desire in them?”

    “No Father Chris. I didn’t, I just wanted for my friends to be safe. Well, at least Tyson to be safe. He knew Frankie as well; we grew up together the three of us. Jesse shot Mike; they meant it as a message to Frankie. I was told a few months later that he was dead and I just stopped breathing. Tyson was never connected to the Devil,” Gerard knew instantly who he was talking about and filed it away for later use. Nick paused and breathed deeply, then continued. “Mike was a good guy too. They killed my girlfriend, Laura, a few weeks later. I was out of town, running messages for McCracken. Will God forgive me Father?” At this, Gerard paused the recorder and covered the loud ‘click-whir’ as a coughing fit.

    “I’m sorry Nick, for coughing. But yes, I do think God will forgive you for your sins, one day. If you repent and renounce such actions, and pray then I do believe He will forgive you. I renounced alcohol and drugs, I healed my past sins, and I feel God has forgiven me. Do not worry, my friend. It will take time but God forgives us all.” He felt sick saying these words, just letters on pages from a book that held a word sacred to so many. But Gerard pushed that feeling away; he had the evidence to bring down McCracken, now all he needed was the man himself and he could take off in time for Christmas.

   “Thank you, Father Chris, and Merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas Nick. I’ll talk to Father Russell, to see if there are any jobs you can help with; I won’t mention anything here that was said though.”   

    “Thank you, Father Chris.” And then Nick opened the door to the booth, letting himself out, than closed it, footsteps receding. 

Gerard waited, hardly daring to breathe, as the footsteps recedded down the long corrider, echoing off the roof and making the canvernous building seem to go on forever. The heavy wooden doors opened slowly and then shut with a soft ‘doom’. The only noise left was Gerard’s frantic and adrenaline pounding heart, keeping time to his racing thoughts. He raced out of the confession booth and could have shouted for joy but at the last second, held himself in check. He stared at the tiny recorder in his hand and replayed the taping. 

‘ _I’m in a gang, Father. The man, he said that I could protect my friends, protect Tyson, if I joined and I didn’t question it; I just did. He… He made me do horrible things after about a year; I was just a messenger with a good friend of mine, Frank Iero but I haven’t heard from him since Junior year in high school. He said that Frankie… That Frank was six feet under. I didn’t ask, but I grieved. Then he was here, a week ago, at Claire’s funeral. I don’t know what to say to that, cause he’s now in the police force and I can’t reach him but he probably knows I’m still in…’_ he fast forwarded through his question _._

‘ _Bert McCracken, Father. He was the one who made me kill Senator Riley’s son, Kevin Hill,  Judge Winter’s wife, Laura Winter and he had me kill City Hall chairman Reese’s daughter, Claire Reese. Bert McCracken, Father Chris was the one who ordered me and another man, Jesse, to do it. He was ready to go; said that he was dissappointed that he didn’t get to kill Frankie’s family but that he devlivered the note to him…’_ fast forward _. ‘_ _No Father Chris. I didn’t, I just wanted for my friends to be safe. Well, at least Tyson to be safe. He knew Frankie as well; we grew up together the three of us. Jesse shot Mike; they meant it as a message to Frankie. I was told a few months later that he was dead and I just stopped breathing. Tyson was never connected to the Devil’_ pause _. ‘Mike was a good guy too. They killed my girlfriend, Laura, a few weeks later. I was out of town, running messages for McCracken. Will God forgive me Father?_ ’

The recording clicked then stalled and Gerard stuffed it into his pants pocket as he rushed for the doors that lead down the hall to the back office Frank was hiding in, a wild grin on his face as his collar fell to the floor.  

  “Frankie, oh my god, it worked! It worked! We bring this to Spencer and Mikey and he’ll give the case to Gabe and we’ll have this bastard in the bag!” He opend the door and stopped dead, lookng around the room in a daze as his manic grin fell to the floor and his elation shattered and fell like metaphorical pixie dust. The couch was overturned and the stacks of extra Bible’s were scattered all over the floor, the floor length mirrior shattered to bits and crunching under his boots like dead leaves of Fall.

   A blackened hole disrupted the smooth, creamy expanse of the wall as he stared at it, wishing that it was just an old hole from a nail for a painting that had hung there once. But he knew better; the smell of expensive cigar’s clung to the place, as if the person had been smoking before coming into the church and lingered in the air, like sickness clings to an unaired room.

 Suddenly, Frank’s ringtone, Sitting on the dock of the bay' by Otis Redding, went off, breaking the intense silence Gerard didn’t want to disturb. With shaking hands, he flipped the phone open and pressed answer.

    “Yes? Frank? Are you okay?” He tried to keep his voice from shaking but couldn’t keep a hopeful note out.

     _‘Ah, Detective Way. How nice of you to answer. Did you_ really _think I wouldn’t know what was going on in that confession booth? That I wouldn’t geuss you were a police officer?’_

 _“_ McCracken! What the fuck did you do with Frank?!”

 McCracken chuckled, a dep rumble that made him sound like a father. It made Gerard sick.

      ‘ _Oh, I wouldn’t worry so much about him.’_ he sounded almost bored. ‘ _Now tell me, how are your precious friends? Mayor Schector? His assistant, Pete Wentz or secretary, Patrick Stump? Maybe Ray Toro and Lindsey Balto, the head doctors? Their assistants, Ryan Ross and Jamia Nestor? Your so-called chief, Bob Bryar, deputy Jon Walker? Those ridiculous chefs, Nate, Alex, Ryland, Joe, Andy and the lot? Your friend on the force, Brendon Urie? Or even your little brother’s boss, Mr. Smith? Or even young Micheal Way himself?”_

  “What-Don’t you dare touch a hair on their heads, you son of a bitch.” Gerard growled into the phone, anger radiating off of him and fear crashing through him.

    _‘Gee! Don’t say anything, I’m fine! Warn the others-‘_

    _‘Shut up, brat!’_ McCracken snapped and a sharp ‘oof!’ from Frank followed. Gerard struggled to keep from punching the wall in frustration and asked, calmly as he could as he started to walk out of the room and down the hall to the back door,

   “What do you want me to do?”   

 _‘Come and find us,_ then _I’ll tell you. Come alone too, elsewise you and your friends are gonna,‘_

 _‘Be sleeping with the fishes? Really? How ‘Godfather’ of you.’_ Gerard’s heart leapt into his throat as he heard Frank’s voice; it meant he was still alive, at least for now.  Frank cried out in pain in the background as something snapped, and he seemed to cut himself off but Gerard snapped. His calm and tightly reined control snapped and definestrated itself from the top floor of the Empire State Building. On the moon. It should be somwhere in the upper atmosphere by now…

    “Frank!” McCracken giggled into the mouth piece and Gerard had to clench his hands to keep them from shaking, the phone biting into his hand.

    “I swear McCracken, you hurt him again and there won’t be a body to put in a grave, never mind jail.”

    ‘ _Ooh, so the pacifist becomes a mafia boss. I think you’ve worked this case too long, Way, if you’re starting to think like me. Well, being a pacifist I doubt you could carry through such a threat_.’ McCracken sneered. Gerard though, knew fear was something that was easily concealed but not easily hidden from the edge of one’s voice if you knew where to look; that underlying implication that every person had when they spoke. Faint and soft as fog, Gerard heard the familiar tremor underneath the cocky attitude.

    “Watch me. Mess with _any_ of them, so much as _talk_ to them and you will find out how much of a pacifist I am.” His voice dropped like a major note; rough, low and scary.

     “Oh, and this extends to Frank. He’s my partner and best friend so don’t think you’ll get away because if I don’t catch you today. I. will. fucking. track. You. DOWN if it means I can put a bullet between your eyes.” With this said, Gerard hung up, snapping the phone closed. He rushed across the parking lot and threw open the door, taking out his laptop and booting up the tracking device that was in Frank’s phone. It was offline and Gerard smirked, typing in another strand of numbers that activated the tracking device in his shoes; a precaution he was glad Mikey, though drunkenly, suggested because like in every hostage situation, the phone was destroyed or thrown someplace random to distract the cops or whatever last ditch plan the baddies had in store, at least how he, Frank and Mikey had discussed it.

    “Come on…come on… Got you!” The tiny red blip in bold red letter labelled FRANK IERO appeared about fifteen miles away on the docks, the third building on the left. Gerard huffed in annoyance, because wasn’t that just cliché as hell? Quickly, he tok out his phone and texted Bob,

   ‘ _DANGER; you, Pete, Patrick, Mikey, Spencer, Jon, Joe, Andy, Nate, Alex, Ryalnd, Brian, Ryan, Brendon, Lindsey, Ray, Jamia and Frankie. Follow me to the docks, third warehouse on the left side. Don’t send a team till I text back; possible snipers. I have a vest; I’m fine… McCracken has Frank. Expect answer in 15. Txt others 2 b careful.’_ And hit send, then gunned the engine soon as the ignition turned. Soon as he was out of the church parking lot and a few blocks away did Gerard turn on the sirens, disreagrding all the traffic laws completely; though he _did_ turn on his sirens and it was an emergancy so it could be validated. His mazda became a blue blur as he raced towards the docks, cursing their luck and swearing up a storm.

   ‘ _Hold on Frankie... Just hold on…_ ’ his frantic thoughts pounded through his mind, relentless as the possibilites multiplied. Gutted, slit throat, drowned, choked, tortured, broken bone(s), shot, gagged… Gerard shook his head, clearing away the heavy thoughts best he could as the docks appeared. Twenty agonizing minutes had passed, even with his insane driving, and Gerard had to stop for another minute parked outside the warehouse to organize his chaotic mind. Breathing deeply, he opened the door, shutting it soft as he could, and took out his kaliver vest from the trunk, checking the ammuniton in his gun and added a second hand gun to his holster, strapping the vest on quickly and efficently. He clipped his badge to his belt and nodded in satisfaction.

   Gerard crept towards the doors, footsteps not making a sound on the gravel, gun drawn and ready. He also had a knife strapped to his arm in case he lost his guns somehow or ran out of  ammo. His hands no longer shook and his eyes went blank, focused on one thing; Frank told him once when they were interogating a suspect that it scared even him, never mind the lackey. He edged the door opened, ready to spring back in case there was a hail of bullets but it was quiet. He walked inside, every sense he had strained to try and hear anything that may be a threat but as his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting and the natural light from the sparse and weaklight from the setting sun that filtered though muddy windows, his heart stopped. There, ten feet in front of him, was Frank, tied up and gagged. His head was bent backwards over the head of the wood chair as though he were unconscious, or worse… Dead.

  In his mouth was a dirty rag, his teeth clenched around it as though fighting back pain, his legs tied straight to the chair, his arms bent awkwadly behind him.

     “Frank… Frankie…” Gerard said, anxiety and fear dripping from his voice as he moved forward, untying the gag and unsheathing his knife to start working on his bonds.

     “Mmm… Gee?” His eyes were a bit unfocused as Gerard stood, probably looking upside down to Frank, and snapped his fingers in front of his nose. His voice was thick, used and wrecked with pain.

   “Right here, Frankie. Come on, focus for me.” A black eye was forming around Frank’s left eye, and he winced as Gerard ran a hand down his side; so at least two or three ribs were fractured or broken.

   “Gerard, you stupid, moronic, obstinate pig-headed ass! This is a trap!!” Frank hissed as Gerard rubbed feeling harshly back into his arms, then his legs, cutting the bonds with a few strokes of the blade.

  “I don’t really fucking care at the moment. I have you and now we just need McCracken. He still here?”     

  “Ah, Mr. Way. Nice of you to join us.” McCracken and his men came from the shadows of the crates and walls, smirks and chuckles coming from every corner. Fifteen, maybe twnety men. McCracken’s main men. Gerard moved forward a bit and kept his resolution strong; face blank and back stiff. A few chuckles and sneers came from the lackeys as they moved closer to their boss, and Gerard heard faint scuffling before a wheeze. He ignored it for now; they were pretty much surrounded and he had only thought through to the part were he got Frank out. Panic had set in before he could come up with anything else, really.

   “Yeah, I’m here. Now what the fuck do you want?”  

  “Oh, tut, tut, Detecive Way. Priests aren’t supposed to swear, are they? And even though it was a confession, my men shouldn’t squeal.” Nick Wheeler and Tyson Ritter were brought forward, Nick bent almost double and Tyson looking around in fear, gags keeping their mouthes shut.

    “Now, as for what I wanted…” McCracken took out a gun.  One minute, Frank was beside him, the next filled with a gun shot, a cry of surprise and pain, then a thud. Nick and Tyson’s probably eyes went wide as they saw their friend go down but all Gerard saw was red. He pulled out his gun, ignoring everything that was going on around him and fired.

   He didn’t see McCracken fall as he shot his leg, hopefully his kneecap, didn’t feel the hands of his men as they tried to grab at him; all he saw was red, all he knew was anger and all he heard was the ‘bang’ ‘bang’ ‘bang’ of the gun as it fired like a heart beat. When they ran out, Gerard restorted to his fists and feet, knocking the remaining out, his knife plucked from his grasp as he wrestlefd with Jepha and Quinn. Finally, the lackey’s were either bleeding out, unconscious or just worn out. He knew he was probably bleeding but he didn’t care; He fired off a text of ‘ _Get here NOW!_ ’ to Bob and looked to where Tyson was helping Nick get untied and gave him a shaky thumbs up. They were okay, at least for the most part.

   Gerard nodded back and rushed over to Frank,  falling to his knees beside him. His Frankie. Blood was pumping out of him like a waterfall, his tanned skin turning pale as Frank’s eyes opened ever so slightly. He didn’t hear McCracken and his men’s groans or cries of pain as they shifted around, trying to get some sort of order again. He didn’t care.

    “Gee… I feel tired.”

 Gerard felt cold and threw off his Kalevar jacket then his black shirt, his grey undershirt soaked with sweat and blood, and pressed the black to Frank’s wound.

   “Come on Frankie, don’t you die on me, come on. Please Frankie, stay with me, baby…  Frank, Frank, come on.” he muttered, tying it tightly as he dared. Frank coughed harshly and blood splattered lightly against his lips and Gerard felt his mind flash to Grace; her procelain skin marred with blood and bruises, then flashed back to Frank as he struggled to breathe, his lips forming words. He winced and whimpered in pain as Gerard picked his torso up, pressing tightly as he dared to the wound, ignoring the wounded cries of McCracken and his men. Frank occupied his every thought and action. Bob and the others would be here within five minutes anyways; they’d be fine.  Tyson helped Nick stand and hobbled over towards Gerard and Frank, Nick half conscious.

    “Gee… Gerard… I knew I was going to lose this fight, okay? I always knew I was… gonna disappear somehow. At least it’s not in the dark, like I expected. I’m sorry how it has to end this way though… Just promise me not to cry, ‘kay? You’ve done that enough.” He giggled and his black, chaotic, expressive eyes looked sad. The rebellious light was still there, and that light in his eyes was not going to go out as long as Gerard breathed and lived.

   “No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, NO!! You are NOT going to die on me, Frankie! I swear, your not going to die!!” He shouted, then ran to his car and placed Frank gently as he could in the back seat then jumped into the front. He fired off another text to Bob, saying that McCracken was incapcitated and two kids, Tyson Ritter and Nick Wheeler were with him. And for Bob to send as many people as he could, along with some paramedics. Tyson, somehow managing to have kept up with Gerard, placed Nick up front, buckled him in then jumped into the back, pulling Frank’s head into his lap and pressing his hands to the black shirt.

    Gerard gunned the engine soon as he got the key in the ignition and ignored every traffic law, sirens blaring loudly as he raced towards the hospital. Frank hummed ‘It’s My Life’ discordenly in the back, panting and barely forming words around whimpers of pain but he was still awake so Gerard counted that as luck. In five minutes, Gerard Way broke at least four dozen traffic laws, ran six red lights (lucky that the way was pretty clear) and skidded to a halt right before he hit some poor patient in a wheelchair as they went up onto the curb and sent his passengers slamming forward in their seats.

    He didn’t care though because a) he had his sirens on, b) it was an emergancy and c) he really didn’t give a fuck. Gerard felt his throat clog up in worry and anger as Frank moaned pitifully as he took him out of the car, granted a bit roughly back into his arms. Gerard dodged around those on the sidewalk to the emergancy entrance. He distantly heard Tyson opening the door and following at a slower pace but he ignored them, because again, Frank was bleeding out and he didn’t have the mental capcity to worry about the two kids, heartless as that may be.

  “Toro!!” He yelled, immediately seeing Ray’s bushy head of hair as he headed towards the doors, Jamia and Ryan loitering around the lobby, cheking up on those waiting. The curly head turned towards him and Toro, talking with Lindsey, walked over, not noticing Frank as he bled in Gerard’s arms.

 “God damn it, Gerard, why do you always come duing my lunch break- Oh my god, Frankie!!” his attention snapped to the frail man as he giggled a bit, eyes opening.

   “Someone turn down the sun. I thought Heaven was supposed to be filled with harps and shit. Not… filled with loud people... What the fuck?” Frank giggled, breathing shallow and pained as Gerard jostled his legs in order to keep a good grip on both him and his bleeding wound.

   “Operation, now. He was hit by McCracken, chest area, I’m pretty sure it went all the way through. I don’t know if it hit his heart.”  He felt sick at the thought.

  Ray was already moving , yelling orders over his shoulder as Ryan and Jamia rushed over, gernie in between them.  Gerard placed Frank carefully as he could before Jamia pushed him out of the way and Ray barking orders, calm and effieicnt. But, unless Gerard was wrong, there was more than a bit of hysteria in his voice.

   “Lindsey, get operation room four prepped, Jamia, IV now, and an oxygen mask. Ryan, keep the presssure on the shirt. I need adrenaline and enoxaparin injections, twenty cc’s of each, NOW!” Everyone was moving and Gerard held onto Frank’s hand, taking the small comfort when Frank squeezed his hand sharply as Jamia slid in the IV, ignoring the the needles and the rushing people. He ran beside them as they headed for the doors and Ray paused, Lindsey shouting orders. Ray stopped Gerard with a hand and a stern look.

   “You cant’ go back there Gee. Frank’s strong; you need to get McCracken.”  

   “But,”

  “Gerard Arthur Way, if you don’t, so help me I will ban you to the lobby, not even a waiting room, until Frank is CONSCIOUS _and_ coherent.” Gerard nodded and Ray disappeared, curly mass being tamed into a ponytail as he ran. Gerard spotted Tyson struggling to hold Nick up as rain started to fall, fast, steady and freezing cold and rushed back outside to help him with the weight.

 “Thank you…” Tyson tried but fell silent at Gerard’s harsh glare. Nick moaned and Gerard noticed blood covering his hands from where he held the boy up.

 “Come on.” He took Nick’s knee’s over one arm and scooped him into his arms, running inside, Tyson bolting ahead of him. Gerard dodged around a few patients and found a band of nurses already there, pointing Gerard to put Nick on the gernie, and was surprised to see another  nurse grabbing his arm, another grabbing Tyson, and leading them away. Tyson disappeared with a whimper and a pleading look to the detective but Gerard could only shrug in sympathy.

   “All right, come this way.”

  “Huh? But I’m fine!” Gerard tried to protest and the nurse looked at him with raised eyebrows.

  “Right, and I’m an emu that has purple stripes and lives in Antartica.”

   “Look, I don’t have time for this.” He grabbed his badge and stuck it in her face. “Now, if you excuse me, I have to get back to a crime scene.” Gerard put his badge back on his belt and ran down the hall, ignoring everyone around him. He needed to get back to the docks; Mikey would be there, more then less likely, even though it was technically illegal, and so would the rest of the force. When he got back to the hospital after that, THEN he would get treatment. Not a second before. And besides, he couldn’t deal with the thought of McCracken being moved without him there to kick his crotch. Or maybe shoot him again.

  ‘ _Frank is also in surgery, while you’re walking and running out to the crime scene… He might not wake up because of you.’_ A traitorious little voice, one he hadn’t heard in almost six years, floated through his mind. Gerard stopped to lean against the wall, hand’s pressed against his eyes as he breathed through pain, both physical and mental, before he shook the voice away and ran all the way outside to his car, gunning the engine the instant he had his seatbelt buckled.

++++

   “Bob, what’s up?” He called, arriving on the scene in ten minutes. Every single fiber he had in his being was buzzing with energy and Bob’s blonde head whipped around so fast Gerard swore he heard it ‘crack’, even from twenty feet and the sound of rain hitting the pavement.

    “Holy shit!” Was all Gerard heard before Brendon, Bob, Jon, and several other officers piled onto him and crushed him.

   “Gerard, what the FUCK, man?” A cop, Danny, asked. He looked at the detective with a mixture of horror and amazement.

   “What?”  

 “Bert fucking McCracken, dude! He said YOU shot him in the leg! And then beat the shit out of several of his men. How in the name of all that makes sense and is holy did you do THAT?!” Brendon exclaimed and Bob looked at him, eyes taking in every detail. Gerard then relaized he looked like shit but at the moment, he just wanted to see McCracken in a stretcher. Or dead, dead was also accepctable. His hair was quickly plastered to his skull and he shivered at the cold but it was helping numb down the injuries that started to throb as the adrenaline slowly started to wear off.

    “He fucking SHOT my partner _,_ and you were expecting me to _NOT_ shoot the jackass? Really?” Gerard crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. Brendon rolled his eyes as Jon said,

  “Tell me you’ve been to the hospital.” He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, as if to hold back a headache.

   “Went, came back. I need to be sure McCracken isn’t dead, as much as I would love for him to be, because otherwise this is all for nothing.” Gerard said, running a hand through his hair. He was running mostly off of adrenaline now and fear but he didn’t really care. Frank was in the hosptial, he had to deal with McCracken. Oh god, he felt a migrain coming on.

   “Gerard, McCracken’s in the ambulance, along with a few of the others; five were unconscious from being shot and the blood loss, their still alive. Uh, about ten were down but still able to move so the EMT’s just gave them a few band-aids and we loaded them into the cars. The other five were pretty much fine so we just took them down to the station.”

   “Great. Is everyone on our end still okay?” Gerard let his voice slip into the ‘I-Will-Fuck-You-Up-If-You-Lie-to-me’ voice, the one where Mikey said he sounded like an icy remnant of himself, at least back when he had to protet his little brother from bullies in school.

   “Yeah, we’re all fine. Brian said he’d stop by the hospital in a bit,” Bob never got to finish that thought as Mayor Brian Schecter came down the lane, Pete and Patrick trailing in his wake, Pete looking tense enough to snap, gun out and held at his side as his dark haired head swiveled from side to side. Patrick looked just as tense and clutched a rather large book. What he intended to do with that book, Gerard could take several guesses but none seemed very likely. Brian wore a kaliver vest and raised his eyebrows when his eyes landed on Gerard.

   “Well, we have McCracken; fucking finally. Bob, Jon, Brendon, Danny, Marie, I want you to go to the hospital and guard Frank and anyone else related to this case. And Gerard, what the fuck are you doing out here?! You need to be in the fucking hospital, like twenty minutes ago.” His face softened slightly and then hardened right back again as he took in the extent of Gerard’s injuries.

     “How are you still moving?” Pete asked, moving over after another look around the docks, gun still cocked and in his hands, double gripped and the usually hyper, almost carefree man looking dangerous and deadly, the gun and just the icy expression on his face. He shifted it to his left hand and ran his right gently down the side of Gerard’s neck, then his ribs, prodding and pushing. Gerard winced and pulled away. Pete made a sound of discontenment in the back of his throat and grabbed Gerard’s arm, almost bodily dragging him back to his car.

    “What, but…” Pete gave him a whithering look and Gerard shut up immediately. Then he remembered the tape recorder in his pants pocket and took it out, pressing it into Pete’s hand.

     “Here, this has Nick’s confession on it. Guard it with your fucking LIFE, Wentz.” Pete just nodded and put it in his jeans pocket then opened Gerard’s car door, the passenger side, and pushed Gerard so he was sitting and then buckled him in. He plucked the keys at the same time from his pocket, and ignoring Gerard’s loud protests, went around the other side, got in, turned on the car and even turned on the sirens. He tore down the roads, then the highway, as if the word were ending.

     “Mikey’s worried sick, you know.” Pete said as he swereved, almost casually, around anohter car that moved out of their way.

    “Is he,”

     “He and Spence are fine. Mikey is probably getting out a case that Spence had been working on by now and Spence has no idea that McCracken is caught yet. The reporters haven’t descended. Hold on for a second, will you?” He pressed the pedal to the floor and zipped past a trailer, grinning a bit manically as he did so. Gerard now felt what it was like to withstand his own driving, or as his mother would say, getting a taste of his own medicine.   

   “Hey, hey! Gee, eyes open for me, got it?” Pete snapped his fingers under his nose, eyes never leaving the road. He hadn’t even realized they had closed. Pete slammed on the brakes, the tires squealing in protest, as he pulled into a space and barely missing the curb. Pete hopped out and then went around to Gerard, helping him stand and get his sense of balance. He procedded to help Gerard walk into the emergancy side of the hospital, snapping orders at nurses as they passed as though he owned the place.

    “You, he needs serious medical help. Now.” The nurse scampered over at once and looked Gerard up and down and nodded once.

    “I’m barely scratched…” he tried again but the adrenaline rush was crashing and Gerard could feel every aching muscle and bleeding gap in his body scream at him. His knee’s started to shake at the exertion he didn’t even realize he was putting into just standing up, never mind walking. Pete noticed this and pulled Gerard’s arm over his shoulder’s, arm wrapping around his wasit, and then helped him limp after the nurse, muttering obsenties about Gerard under his breath.

    His stomach felt as though someone had punched straight through it, his shoulder might have been torn right off because it was kind of numb but it still moved and he could feel his fingers so it wasn’t dislocated. Possibly. His back and spinal cord were screeching like wounded cats as he and Pete limped down the hall after the nurse to a room. His legs and feet were partically numb and he had to check that Pete was actually holding onto his hand where it was slung over his shoulder and not stump where his hand used to reside. The nurse lead them to a room, nodding over to the exam table which Pete had to help him get on top of. Pete went to the door after that, saying over his shoulder,

    “I’m going back to watching Brian’s ass and then call Mikey cause he deserves to strangle you for your stupidity.” Then left. Gerard blushed and turned his attention back to the nurse, who blinked, not seeming to really process the strange statement before she shook her head and focused on Gerard and his multitude of injuries.  

  “Alright, my name is Greta Salpeter. What’s your name?” she was surprisingly kind now. She sat in a wheelie chair, looking for all the world like she and Gerard were best friends.

   “Gerard Way.”

    “Where do you work, Gerard?”

  “I work for New Jersey Police Department, and I don’t know why I’m here when I am perfectly fine and I have to get back to a crime scene, again. And then strangle Pete Wentz for putting me here.” He tried to stand but Greta beat him to it and pushed him back down, suddenly business.

  “You are in no shape to do any of that, Gerard. Take off your shoes, socks, pants and shirt; you look as though you went through a meat grinder. I’ll be right back though so don’t do something stupid like Ethan Hunt and try to escape out the window.”

   “Why would I do-“ he froze at that thought though. When someone warned him not to try and escape, usually when he was at a hospital, it meant he was going to have a needle stuck into him.

Fuck. He did as she said though and stripped down to his boxers, shivering a bit as the air conditioning came and bit at him and situated himself on the exam table.

   Greta returned with another nurse who pushed a small cart that held bandages and other medical instruments that Gerard couldn’t focus on because he was also wheling in an IV pole. ShitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitFUCK.

     “Hey, Gerard. Eyes on me.” Greta said as she took his right hand and began to clean it.

     “Y-yes?”

    “Is your partner the one Ray and Lindsey are working on right now?” He nodded, mute. She smiled at him, hands gentle as she cleaned each knuckle and finger and moved along his bleeding arm, then laying gauze over top. She grabbed a roll of bandages and tape and began to wrap his arm quickly, efficeintly and tight, but gentle.

   “Tell me about him. What’s his name, what does he do? How long have you two been together?”

    “His name is Frank Iero and he’s my partner. And what do you mean, how long have we been together?” He turned his attention to Greta, ignoring the other nurse as he rubbed down his left hand, brisk and a bit rough as he bandaged Gerard’s fingers and knuckles.

    “I meant, how long have you two been together. You obviously care a lot about him if you take a bullet to the rib cage, though since you’re not dead, obviously, you were wearing a vest and so have three fractured ribs. Steven, help me here.” She paused and pressed along his ribs, telling him to straighten his posture and breathe deeply as he could. She nodded and pressed a pad to the purple and blue bruise then wrapped his torso in white. It hurt yes, but Gerard bit his lip and hissed as she pulled harshly, cutting it and taping it down.

    “There’s that. Your legs aren’t that badly off, so let’s take a look at your shoulder. Steve? Go on, Gerard. How long have you two been together?”   

   “Umm… About half a year. If you mean in a relationship, Frank wouldn’t, especially not after I got him fucking shot.” Greta smiled distractedly at him and pressed along his shoulder.

    “Any pain?”

   “Uh, not really. Hey, did you get my left hand already?” He looked to the other nurse, who was bandaging Gerard’s knuckles. He looked down and felt his stomach drop. There was a neddle… Sticking out of hand… That wasn’t normal.

   “Gerard? Are you alright?” Steven, the male nurse, asked.

    “N-needle… Hand… How did it..?” he felt sick.

     “Gerard, you need the drugs in your system. They’re not powerful painkillers, but they’ll take the edge off the pain in a few minutes. So, before that happens, is there any pain in your right shoulder? Can you flex your fingers and arm for me?” Greta curled her foream as if she were lifting a weight and Gerard copied her. His shoulder twinged but not like it was dislocated.

    “I don’t think it’s dislocated. A bullet could have hit him there and caused some bad brusing but nothing major. Alright, Gerard. Can you hear me?” Greta asked and he nodded. He felt sick, still staring at the needle that was sticking out of his hand and it really shouldn’t be there… Steven wasn’t beside him anymore and Greta’s voice was calm, low; as if he were an animal. He didn’t know about that but it helped him from hyperventalating.

     “All right. Gerard, Steven left to find you some sweatpants to wear because your pants are pretty much gone. You can’t wear a shirt just yet but I’m sure a relative can bring you some clothes and a jacket to wear when we can remove the IV. Tell me more about Frank.” She smiled again and Gerard relaxed a bit.

    For the next ten minutes, he regaled Greta with tales of the last year and half he had with Frank, and the drugs probably making him slightly loopy, how much he worried over the small man. He stopped when Steven retuned with a pair of baggy grey sweats and helped the detective pull them on, then take off his socks and boots. Steven couldn’t find a jacket however and shrugged in apology.

   “The other one you came in with,”

  “Tyson Ritter.” 

  “Tyson,” Steven amended. “Is in another room; come with me and I’ll show you the room. Do you have any relatives?” Gerard could name a few but he merely nodded, his lucidity slipping.

   “All right. Well, follow me and I’ll show you to Tyson’s room. He’s half awake, at least when I left. Gerard, there was another boy that came in with you. Do you remember his name?”

    “Uh.. Nick. Nicholas Wheeler. He. He, uh got stabbed somewhere… There was a lot of blood if I remember correctly.” Gerard said, getting off the table and feeling his legs shake a bit.

     “Right. So, Mr. Wheeler is also in surgery at the moment. What were you doing, if I can ask, that got you looking like out went through a fight with a bear?” Greta said as she helped Gerard stay steady on his feet, Steven leading toward the door and then down the hall to where Tyson had roughly disappered. Gerard didn’t pay much attention, just focused on not throwing up.

   “I was going to get Frankie back from McCracken and then he shot him. I kinda lost control and screwed a bunch of poeple up, but only five of them are actually coming to the hospital. And once agan, I am stuck here when I should be with,” Greta helped him through the door then get situated on the only other bed left there in the room but shut him up with a look and another needle. She injected it’s clear contents into his IV. Gerard shut his eyes and focused on breathing away the next wave of naseua.

    “Thank you. I need to call my brother... And my boss… No, I need to get back to the scene.” 

“Right, cause that’s SO going to happen.” Jon’s voice came from the doorway and Gerard felt an immense relief lifted from his shoulders. Again.

    “Gee, just let the drugs do their work and sleep. Christ. Bob is watching the ICU room where Frankie is. Brendon is watching Nick and Danny and Marie are watching the front doors. You have nothing to do but fucking sleep.” He nodded and Greta injected something into the drip again. He sat back heavily on the bed, his tonuge suddenly heavy and his eyes starting to swim.

   “What... Did you just…”

   “She gave a light sedative, Gee. This is just your body shutting down for sleep, okay? A body isn’t meant to run of adrenaline all the fucking time, okay?”   
   He felt himself nodding slowly, as if moving through molasses. He closed his eyes, feeling as though he was about to say something, either a curse or a thank you, his didn’t know. He was already asleep.


	5. Rules that defy the Laws of Physics, Logic and Sanity; a.k.a Love

    “Is he ever going to wake up?” That was Mikey’s voice.

    “He should, soon. We have to keep the IV in him in case of dehydration or any infections that may pop up so he needs the drugs in his system.” That was Ray.

He felt a shift on his bed and an arm wrap around him, squeezing him like an anaconda. Mikey again. He opened his eyes a bit and immediately turned into his brother’s side.

   “Mmmph… Mikes, turn down the lights. Or better yet, turn them the fuck off. Please.” He whimpered and he heard Mikey sigh, but it wasn’t one of exasperation; this was one of relief.

   “He’s awake. Hey, hey Gee. Open your eyes. Come on, Gerard, please. Open your eyes.” He grunted and slowly blinked them open then bolted straight up; Frank’s closed eyes and the rust colored stain of blood as it stained his hands flashed before him. Tyson and Nick, McCracken… Where were they? Were the two boys all right? And was McCracken dead?

     “Hey, hey, hey, hey. Gerard, calm down, okay?” Mikey was right next to him on the bed. His long, slender fingers wrapped around the back of his neck, pulling him back down like one does to comfort a child when they’re afraid of soemthing. He was shaking; Gerard didn’t even realize it. He wasn’t crying, not yet, but the past few hours, or however long he had been unconscious, still weighed heavily in his mind, jumbled up and chaotic. Gerard pressed himself back into Mikey’s side, eyes shut tightly. His brother’s long finger’s ran through his hair, calming his near panic attack and soothing his mind, lulling his foggy sense’s into a calm, almost sleep-like state again.

   “Ray has good news.” Mikey said and Gerard felt the bed shift again, his brother’s warmth disappearing. He opened an eye and rubbed it, then felt the twinge from his hand and felt nausea roll his stomach and then knot tightly. Fucking needles…

    “What?” he asked, suddenly feeling groggy, his brain still rebooting and currently a blue screen of death after his initial few minutes of lucidity and panic.

    “Frank’s out of ICU and is in a regular room. You can go and see him.” Gerard sat up bolt straight again and swung his legs over the bed, hitting Mikey’s own bony legs in process but he couldn’t care less.

    “What about McCracken?” he struggled with the sheets that caught around his leg, twisting it at an awkward angle.  

    “He has a cast, crutches and a bullet hole in his leg and about six different cops on him and his men, who you shot, and landed here in the hospital. You aimed a bit too low, Gerard and hit his calf but it went straight through and didn’t tear the tissue too horribly or break bone. And don’t move so fast!” Ray pressed him back against the bed and handed him a jacket.

   “At least put this over your shoulders so you don’t catch a fucking cold on top of all this. Mikey brought you some clothes; jeans, a shirt, jacket, etc. So get on the jeans, have some gum cause your breath is rank man, and then I’ll take you to see Frankie. Okay?” Gerard nodded and did as he was told. Mikey helped him get on the new jeans and threw the thick, warm hoodie over his shoulders and then thrust a piece of gum into his mouth.

   “Gerard, your breath really does stink. Brush your teeth before Frank wakes up, please.”

   “That bad?”

   “Either Frank’s gonna wake up smelling it and pass out and/or die. Or the government is going to come and contain you for being a biochemical weapon.” He deadpanned. Gerard grumbled and grabbed the tooth brush that Mikey held out in front of him, not really even stopping to wonder WHY his little brother had a toothbrush; it was just a fact that Mikey had one on him, probably foresight to Gerard’s idiocy. He stood properly now, picked up the water bottle that was on the bedside table, again, probably Mikey’s, and used it to wash out his mouth. He grimaced at the taste of cinnamon gum with whatever after taste left over in his mouth and walked over to the window, opening it and spit out the concoction. He ignored Mikey and his grunt of annoyance before turning back to Ray, who announced his arrival with the door closing behind him as he entered the room.

   “Wow, classy move, Gee. Spitting out the window, third floor. Nice.” He couldn’t tell if his friend was sarcastic or not but that didn’t really matter to him. McCracken and his men were heavily guarded, Frank was out of ICU and he was more or less okay.

   “Please, I’m the classiest detective you know.” Gerard retorted with a smirk and Ray rolled his eyes so hard, he was surprised they didn’t fall out of his head.

   “Come on, classy detective. Let’s go.” Mikey put the hoodie around his shoulders, helping Gerard get one arm through, the one without the IV, and walked beside him as he followed Ray.

He felt Mikey squeeze his hand and felt glad for the physical anchor as he mind ran away with anxiety and worry. Mikey squeezed his hand again, harder this time, and Gerard closed his eyes, organizing his thoughts and forcing his emotions into a form of order.

   “Gerard, I’m going to go and get you some food, okay? And some coffee. Patrick called while you were asleep and said Brian would be here soon. Go in and see him.” Mikey said, pushing Gerard toward the room a bit. He opened his eyes and faced the plain white door, room number 306. The memory of the day he learned the truth, at least some of the truth, about Frank, their explosive argument amost a year ago, hit him almost like a physical blow.

   “Gee?”

   “Yeah… He’s asleep, you said?” He turned to Ray, feeling slightly more put together.

   “Yes. I’m not sure when he’ll wake up but don’t worry too much; he’s out of immediate danger.” He nodded and before he pushed open the door, he felt Ray’s hand on his shoulder and stopped, turning to the side a bit.

   He raised his eyebrows a bit and Ray pressed something into his hand.

   “Give this to him when he wakes up, okay?” Gerard closed his hand around it, noticing the familiar weight and shape automatically; it was Frank’s rosary. He swallowed thickly and grabbed the IV pole, his hand throbbing a bit from the needle now that he paid attention to his body and not his thoughts, and walked inside. Ray closed the door behind him and it was only Gerard and Frank; only Frank was in the white bed and completely still. Aside from his breathing. The silence was filled with the beeping of machines and Gerard stumbled forward, landing in the hard plastic chair that stood silent guard over the sleeping man. Gerard closed his eyes and bent forward, ignoring the dull points of pain, resting his elbows on the bed and his head in his hands.

   “Come on, Frank… Wake up babe. Wake up…” He knew this was just a futile wish, a child’s idea that if he tried hard enough, _prayed_ even, that he would get up and start ranting about McCracken and how ‘ _the jackass had fucking shot me! I’m going to smother him with a pillow now, excuse me._ ’ And probably then go off and do just that, shameless hospital gown and all.

   Gerard opened his eyes and pulled Frank’s limp hand from his side, curling his own fingers around it protectively.

He didn’t know how much time passed.

Nor did he really care.

++++

   Gerard’s bandaged fingers held tightly onto Frank’s hand as the heart monitor counted away his life, slow and even in sleep. Gerard found himself hating the sound and being comforted by it and ignored the coffee Mikey brought in, his brother’s feather light touch on his shoulder and the shuffling footsteps as they moved around to the other side of the bed. There were four cups now, two of them empty, Mikey finishing a third as he sat on the other side of the bed, worry and anxiety scrunching his face.

   “The press still is trying to find the details out about McCracken but with Brian here, along with much of the police force, they can’t find out a lot. Bob and Jon were fending off a few reporters.”

“What day is it?” he asked, voice rough from non-use. He ignored his stomach as it growled; he would eat in a little while.

   “Officially? It’s Monday the fifteenth. It’s about five o’clock in the afternoon. I’m not sure how much longer we’re going to be able to keep these guys away, Gee.” Gerard just grunted non-commentally and Mikey stood, moving back around to his side and squeezed his shoulder.

   “I”ll tell Pete and Patrick to call Spencer. And you need to eat Gerard, you haven’t since last night. Come on, Frank won’t wake up for a while.”

   Ray said he was going to sleep for a while yet but that meant he was healing, Gerard knew this, rationally. It didn’t mean it cut any of his anxiety away. Besides, he didn’t have much of an appetite.

     “I’ll eat in a bit Mikes, I promise.” The more rational side of him answered and Mikey nodded, automatically deciphering what Gerard was saying. ‘Please bring me something to eat from the cafeteria.’

   “And Gerard, get some sleep. I’ll see if I can get you an apple or something but you’ll have to come down eventually to eat.” He nodded and sighed; he didn’t hear the shuffled footsteps as they moved out of the room and then the door as it closed softly behind him.

He hadn’t really slept aside from a few naps since Ray had let him see Frank; the motionless man, aside from his chest rising and falling slowly, faintly, was so strange for such an animate man and it scared Gerard. A lot.

   “Come on baby… Don’t give up on me, come on.. Wake up…” He picked up the rosary from the side table and wound it around Frank’s right hand loosely, then pressed the hand to his forehead as if his own thoughts and desperation would wake him. Gerard sighed and closed his eyes, then remembered the day that they buried Claire. He began to sing,

**You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.**

**You’ll never know dear, how much I love you**

**So please don’t take my sunshine away.**

**So please don’t take my sunshine away.**

**So please don’t take my Frankie away.**

    Gerard’s voice broke at the last line and put his head down on Frank’s thigh, didn’t try to stop the tears as they fell, just let the slide down his face and soak into Frank’s sheets. The emotions that had been rolling around inside of his gut, battling his mind and heart suddenly made sense.

   He was in love with his partner, his best friend. He wasn’t sure which shocked him more; how long it took him to realize this fact or how unaffected he felt know that he had figured this out. It was like his heart understood from almost day one that he was going to fall in love with his partner and waited for the rest of him to catch up. Gerard cracked a smile at this and felt exhaustion over take him once again. He closed his eyes and slept, his bandaged finger’s intertwined with Frank’s.

++++

   Mikey watched from the door way and nodded to himself; finally his idiotic older brother was asleep and he didn’t have to get Ray to threaten him with a sedative.

   “Pete, Patrick, call Spencer.” He said, walking over to the private waiting room. Brian was pacing, avoiding the people outside the room as much as he was staying in worry over Frank. Jon was there, slumped in a chair, Brendon beside him, Ryan helping to keep the beat cop from pacing and wearing another trench into the floor, which Brian seemed intent on doing. Nick and Tyson sat quietly in the corner, casting furtive glances at the door to Frank’s door and the entrance to the private waiting room, almost as if they expected an insane gunman to come charging through and kill them. He sighed and saw Jamia as she poked her head into the room, food on a tray, enough for two people.

   “I take it Gerard is finally asleep.” She nodded to Pete and Patrick as they left the room, arguing quietly over who would call Spencer.

   “Yeah. I’ll take it in for you.” She nodded in gratitude and left. Mikey sighed heavily, taking off his glasses with one hand to rub his eyes with the heel of his hand, tray balanced in his left hand. Time to be sure his brother would fucking at so he didn’t waste away; he shivered at the thought and blocked the other one’s it dragged up. Grace, her death, Frank and how he wouldn’t wake up…

    Mikey shook his head and opened the door to Frank’s room, quietly as he could so not to wake his sleeping brother, and tip-toed in so that he was beside Gerard. He quietly placed the tray on the small bedside table, gathering the empty Styrofoam mugs and throwing them away. He picked up the only one that was full and by now lukewarm if not cold but coffee was coffee, no matter how bad it was. He sighed and settled down on the opposite side of Frank, crossing his legs and sipping his coffee. He didn’t know how much time ticked away but he did know, from the time that he sat down, he had finished his coffee, Gerard had not moved aside from shifting once or twice in his sleep, and Frank’s heart had beat exactly 778 times.  

_779..780..781..782..783..784..785..786..787..788..789..789..790..791..792..793..794..795..796…797…798…799…800…801…802…_

_803…804…805…806…807…808…809…..810…811…812…813…814…815…816…817…819…820…821…822…823…824…825…_

_826…827…_

    “Mmph… Ge’rd? Mikes?” a voice jolted Mikey from his silent counting, making him lose count but his head snapped up, eyes automatically zeroing in on Frank’s shifting form.

     “Frankie! You’re awake!” Frank had no time to prepare himself for the hug that Mikey envoloped him in, practically crushing his ribs and making his chest squeeze painfully. He whimpered and Mikey released him like he was on fire, guilt and worry obvious.

    “Where’s Gerard? If he okay?” He struggled to sit up more and Mikey helped him straighten out then gestured to his sleeping brother.

   “Just asleep. Thank god you woke up though, Frankie. You had us all worried sick. Gerard hasn’t left your side since you were moved from ICU.” Gerard’s head shifted on Frank’s thigh and he yawned a jaw crackling wide, tongue curling and small teeth glinting as he smacked his lips.

    “Gee... Hey, Gerard.” Frank squeezed his hand, yawning as he reclined a bit more into his pillows, laying back down again.

Gerard’s head snapped upwards so fast Frank and Mikey heard a ‘snap’ ‘crack’ in his neck and winced at the noise.

    “Frank…” His eyes were wide with disbelief and then he was a blur as he leapt halfway onto the bed and pulled Frank close.

   “Don’t EVER do that to me again, Frankie.” He pulled back a bit as Frank whimpered a slightly in pain and looked over every spot on his body that he could see.

   “Sorry, Gee.” He cracked a smile and Gerard just pressed his head into Frank’s neck, muttering over and over again “I’m sorry, so sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” Frank shook his head and just smoothed a hand through Gerard’s hair.

   “I’m going to be sure Pete and Patrick aren’t dead, okay? And Gerard, try to eat something.” Gerard removed himself from Frank, composing himself and nodded.

   “I’m fi-“ His stomach growled loudly and Frank weakly raised a hand, hitting the back of his head.

   “Eat, Gee.” Mikey said forcefully and he nodded meekly. Frank yawned and blinked a few times, obviously making an effort to stay awake. Mikey shook his head and closed the door to the room; his brother and best friend were idiots.

   “I wonder how Spencer is doing with the McGreveer case…” He wondered aloud and Brian turned towards him, mouth twisted slightly in a grin.

   “I don’t know but Pete and Patrick have been gone for almost ten minutes now. I’m not entirely sure if I should be worried yet or not.”  

   “Are you going to try and find them?” Brian looked a bit afraid at the suggestion and pointed to the closed door which muffled the noise of the busy hallway as people tried to get inside. Brendon stirred a bit at the noise and Ryan quickly stood, going over to the door and opened it. Three reporters stood there, well, they were more like journalists, trying to get the scoop on the ‘mystery case’.

   “Please leave the premises now, as we have patients that need immediate care and rest. This means no noise; and as this floor has many heavily wounded patients, I would appreciate it if you would leave. Now.” Ryan seemed to have cowed the trio but they didn’t leave and if anything, they only lowered their voices and asked across the distance and through the crack,

   “Mayor Schechter, is it true that-“ Mikey smirked suddenly as Bob and Ray’s shadow’s fell over them.

     “I’m afraid I must ask you to vacate the premises. Chief Bryar, will you do the honors?” Ray asked, turning to Bob who put on his most menacing scowl. Mikey felt the air go cold and was glad that he was on the other side of the room and used to Spencer; otherwise he’d be like the journalists, scared shitless. He was pretty sure one of them whimpered.

   “Let’s go, come on, move it.” They scampered away, Bob corralling them away as they tried to question him, the voices fading down the brightly lit hall and Bob’s voice repeating like a stuck record,

     “No comment, move it. No, I have no comment at this moment. Get going.” Mikey shook his head and stretched. He would sleep for a bit, though he may hole up here because the rabid reporters had yet to leave and he really didn’t have the mental capacity nor the patience to deal with them. He sighed and took off his glasses then stretched out his legs, pulled up his hood, plugged in his music, and shut his eyes. He needed sleep. THEN he would deal with the world. But not before.

++++

   Spencer sighed as the Defendant droned on and on and _on_ about his client this and his client that. Good God, he was ready to shoot himself in the FOOT. Finally, he sat and Spencer stood, his phone vibrating in his pocket.

‘ _Mikey, if that’s you, I am going to STRANGLE you…’_ He coughed, approached the podium and said,

   “Your Honor, I suggest we take a recess, allow the defendant to collect his thoughts instead of leading us all in a circle.” He was given a glare but the judge, Gabe Saporta, nodded.

   “Great idea. Ten minute recess, everyone. Go and frolick and do what you want to, as long as it’s legal.” Gabe then leaned back in his seat, pulling a newspaper out from his robes and putting his feet up. He opened it as his stenographer, a Mr. William Beckett, shrugged and stood, his five miles worth of leg clothed in a pair of nice dress pants.

When no one moved, Gabe flicked down the top of his newspaper and looked down at the court, eyebrow raised.

   “What? Didn’t I dismiss for a ten minute recess?” He leaned over the side to ask William who nodded and checked the typewriter.

   “You said, ‘Great Idea. Ten minute recess everyone. Go and frolick and what you want to, as long as it’s legal.’ End quote.”

   “Thank you, Bill. Anyways, go. Ten minute recess.” Gabe picked up his gavel and hit it against the plate and everyone stood at once, going out to the halls or milling about. Spencer felt his phone vibrate again and shook his head as he heard the defendants trying to pull together a strategy. The man was guilty, oh so guilty it made Spencer sick. Plus, he had shot Jon when he was trying to escape and if it hadn’t been for Brendon and Gerard’s quick thinking, the man would be dead. And Jon would have been gone. He shook the thought from his mind as he rushed out to the hall and checked the caller I.D.

‘ _Brian_ _Schecter_ ’ along with a picture of the mayor flashed onto his screen.

   “What Schecter?” He asked, exhausted mentally from the damn McGreever case.

   ‘ _Spencer? Hey, it’s Pete!_ ’

   “Pete? What the hell?! You can’t just call me in the middle of a case!” He whisper yelled.

   ‘ _Pete, give me that…. Hi, Spencer. It’s Patrick. Brian told us to tell you Gerard and Frank caught McCracken. The presses are attempting to draw details but Brian and everyone is remaining tight-lipped on the people involved, along with who they took down so, you can guess the mad house that’s going on._ ’

   “Then why aren’t _they_ telling me?” He asked, rubbing a temple with his free hand.

   ‘ _They’re in the hospital._ ’

   “What?!” he almost yelled, then quickly lowered his voice and calmed down, asking calmly as he could manage,    

    “Then where are you two? Back with Schecter at the office, beating away the press?”

   ‘ _Oh, we’re here as well. Brian can’t be gone from work for too long, so Pete can’t leave him, pretty much at all, and thus I can’t leave Pete. And we really don’t want a repeat of the whole infamous Chicago incident. Again… But before we go down that road, again, tell Gabe and William that we have evidence, a confession, witnesses, the whole she-bang. We need to put the jack ass in jail already._ ’ Spencer couldn’t agree more. He sighed though and nodded.

   “Fine, I’ll go tell Gabe and Bill…”

    ‘ _Good, cause I don’t think Pete can stay here for much longer… Or Brian or anyone else for that matter._ ’

   “Err… Why? Do I even want to know?”

   ‘ _Fan girls keep drooling over Pete as he tries to keep Brian from being attacked by them. And everyone keeps bothering Brian; autographs, questions, demands. You get the idea. Also, bring coffee, and a lot of it. And cigarettes. I think Gerard is starting to lose touch with reality.’_

   “Why?” Spencer felt genuinely confused.

   ‘ _He hasn’t left Frank’s bedside for what is now three days, aside to piss and brush his teeth once or twice. He drinks water, I’m pretty sure, under Ray’s threat of keeping the IV in longer because of dehydration, and he hasn’t smoked or drunken any coffee since Saturday morning. Honestly, I’m surprised he isn’t suffering from withdrawal headaches_.’ Patrick sounded slightly amused but worry was there as well.

   ‘ _Then again,’_ Spencer mused, ‘ _Patrick seems to be a state of worry a some point during the day at some point or the other anyways…’_

However the only outward acknowledgement  Spencer gave was a heavy, exasperated, if slightly bemused, sigh/snort hybrid and with a short,

   “Alright, see you in twenty.” Hung up. Spencer straightened his tie and walked back inside the court room.

   Gabe was still reading, his feet still propped up on the desk. Spencer reached up and rapped on the desk, Gabe, in response, flicked down the top of the newspaper eyebrow raised and mouth twitching into a questioning frown.

    “Hm? What do you want, Mr. Smith?”

     “Gabe, Gerard and Frank found and caught Bert McCracken. So we need this case to end. Now!” Gabe flicked the newspaper back up then back down and folded it. He sighed and rubbed his temples. Bill rolled his eyes and stood, stretching tall and then sitting again.

Gabe looked down at his stenographer and raised an eyebrow, then both, wiggling them in a strange pattern. William just blinked and raised one of his own eyebrows.

    “I have no idea what I’m suggesting with my eyebrows but would you like to find out?” Bill sighed and shrugged.

   “If you finish up this case, we can get coffee sooner.” Gabe seemed to mentally debate this, and Spencer knew the judge well enough to know that there was an incredibly sharp mind behind the flirts and the easy grins, lazy behavior. And he was currently weighing his chances of getting into Bill’s pants, if the grin that curled his lips meant anything. Spencer groaned and Gabe turned back to him.

   “Done. I’ll get the jury in here, we decide and then sentence is over. You know the drill by now, Spencer.” He nodded and moved back over to the desk just as everyone else came flooding back in, the jury resuming their seats. Gabe erased his easy going smile and his eyes became lasers; everyone’s whispers, even their breath, went quiet, stilling as Gabe asked,

   “Has the jury reached a verdict?” A man with long black hair Spencer knew, Kellin, he and Jon had coffee with the man once, when they were relaxing from a case.

   “We have your Honor. We find the Defendant, Tom McGreever, to be guilty on all counts.”

     “Very well. Tom McGreever, I hereby sentence you to fifteen years in prison. Your bail is thirty thousand. Court dismissed.” McGreever was lead away and Spencer cleared his files and papers away, placing them neatly but quickly in his briefcase before he was out of the court room and down the hall, heading out the steps to freedom.

   ‘ _I don’t know if I should be thanking Gerard and Frank or strangling them… Maybe both._ ’ He sighed and rushed to his car. He would worry about it after he had caffeine in his system and got Gerard his coffee before he possibly died.

   “I swear, sometimes they’re more trouble then their worth.” Spencer chuckled as he said this though and cranked up the heat, blasting away towards the hospital.

++++

   Gerard Way was groggy, sore, stiff and even though he had eaten about a half an hour ago, his stomach was curling. Frank was asleep again, failing in his valiant struggle to stay awake, and even his stubbornness couldn’t match the exhaustion and drugs in his system. Gerard was pretty sure Mikey had filled them both in on what was going on but then again, he couldn’t be entirely sure as he hadn’t had any coffee for about three days… He raised his head and looked around the room; they were completely alone.

   He squeezed Frank’s hand, a reassurance that he was still alive, still there. He smiled, forgetting all his own pain, mental and physical, when Frank squeezed back.

   “How did this happen, Frankie? How? What did you do, you crazy, crazy man?” his voice was a whisper, feeling as though he spoke any louder, he would wake Frank up from a light nap.

   He remembered all that had happened over the last few months; their banter, late nights as they gathered in Ray’s basement, the whole lot of them or maybe just four or five. The quiet nights and House of Wolves, the coffee at Unscripted. Frank being lazy and napping, leaning back in his chair as Gerard ‘took a break’ form paperwork, making coffee. Frank’s twenty-eighth birthday, the excitement in his face. The nights they spent at Gerard’s home, watching movies, working on the case, or in the last two months, Gerard being taught ‘A Crash Course in Catholicism: All the basics and absolute necessities in being a newly ordained priest’. He rolled Frank’s rosary in between his fingers, feeling his heart constrict.

     He was in love with his partner, yes, but did Frank love him as well? Well, a cliché worry but it was very real. Gerard knew his partner was bi, but he didn’t know if Frank loved him the way he did; said he loved him a few times in the morning or night before he fell asleep. Was he joking? Serious? Too tired to know what he was saying? Or just teasing?

   “God, Frank. What the fuck did you do to me? I fell in love with you, in so deep… How did you do it?” He chuckled softly and stood, avoiding looking at his left hand. He no longer felt the needle but it was still there and he was pretty sure that if he looked, he was going to throw up.

   He moved to leave to get coffee, even though hospital coffee was shit, when Frank’s hand tugged on the back of his jacket, making the one sleeve he managed to keep on slip a little.

   “Frankie? What’s wrong?” He was beside Frank again before the second hand on the clock could tick again.

   “Took you long enough, Gee…”

   “Wait, what do you mean?” Frank opened his eyes all the way and sat up a bit in the bed, a smile curling his lips upwards. Not a smirk but a genuine smile. Gerard felt some of the dark gloom lift away at that and smiled back, sitting back down so Frank didn’t pull his stitches.

   “I mean, it took you fucking long enough to figure it all out. And here I thought you were the best detective in all of New Jersey.” He smirked at that and Gerard felt his mind reeling.

   ‘ _Wait… Frank… Frank Iero, my partner and friend, loves me back? What the fuck?! And how did I miss this?!’_

Frank merely smirked and shook his head.

   “You really need to pay attention, Gee.” He huffed and shook his head, apparently exasperated with his partner. Gerard however, was shifting through his confusion and thoughts started moving at warp seven.

   “Gee? Hello? Gerard?” He felt Frank shake him slightly and blinked.

   “What?”

Frank looked a mix of awkward, confused, worried and sleepy.

   “So,”

   “Frank, I know this is going to sound really stupid and corny but I think my heart fell for you the moment I met you and waited for the rest of me to catch up; so will you please join me for dinner?”

   “Mm…”

   “Vegetarian lasagna, romantic dinner, the works. I’ll make everything you love. Soon as you’re out of the hospital, that is.” Frank smiled and yawned, nodding.

   “I would love to, Gerard.” Frank smiled and yawned, the moment ruined and Gerard put a hand over his eyes, pressing forcefully against them.

   “Sleep, Frank.” His partner grunted but complied and Gerard listened to the monitor slowing down.

   “I’m cold though.”

   “I can go and get Ryan if you want. Maybe he can find some more blankets or something that can get you warmer.” Frank rolled his eyes and pulled Gerard close.

   “Come and join me, moron.” Gerard paused then nodded, taking off his shoes and grabbed the IV pole, still attempting not vomit as his hand twinged, and climbed onto the bed behind Frank, his chest connecting to Frank’s back, his legs disappearing underneath the sheets and bracketing Frank’s. He was careful about the IV lines and the wires and made sure to keep them clear but pulled Frank protectively against him, wrapping his IV hand around his waist and leaned back against the pillows, eyes closing. Frank put his head down on Gerard’s chest, his head coming just to Gerard’s chin and he sighed happily.

   They fell into an easy sleep, Gerard’s heart beating against Frank’s ear, keeping time with the mechanical ‘beepbeepbeepbeep’ of his own heart monitor. Neither man heard Ray and Jamia come in, fixing the bandages on Frank and Gerard, and replacing their saline bags. Ray removed the bandages on Gerard’s left arm and hand, but kept them on his right, the cuts still healing. He debated mentally for a moment, then removed the needle from Gerard's hand, maneuvered his arm into the sleeve and then replaced it. Gerard was still a bit dehydrated, though the rest of his vitals were level. Jamia checked Frank over, methodical but quick and marked his chart, replacing it. He raised his eyebrows and she nodded. He smiled in response and they crept out of the room, then touched Jamia’s shoulder.

   “You need to go home and sleep. I’ll be here until Ryan and Lindsey come in in about an hour. They’ll be fine. And if you can, get Brian and the others to eat something. I’m pretty sure that the reporters have left. Or at least, Bryar scared them shitless and they have fled. For now.” Jamia nodded and yawned.

   “Gladly. See you tomorrow.” She left, and Ray stretched, about to go and check on some other patients, check back in with Frank, Lindsey and Ryan before he left to get some sleep and a well deserved shower. Just as he was about to leave the private waiting room, Jamia came back in, blanket in her arms and pushed past him, then laid the blankets over a sleeping Mikey, Pete, Bob and Mary.  

   “Go, shoo shoo.” Jamia nodded and yawned, then left. Ray sat for a minute, releasing his afro from it’s confines of a ponytail, and then stretching, standing, walked to the door, taming the curls again as he went, casting one last look over the sleeping group before nodding to himself and leaving. He would be back within twenty minutes, maybe forty. He really did have over patients to look after… He shook his head, grabbed his coat and started his rounds.


	6. There is no Justice in Life, except that made by Man

“Frankie… Frankie…” Gerard shook his partner (boyfriend?) gently and got a mumble, and a small man attempting to bury himself ostrich style into his chest. Gerard chuckled and shook his head.

   “I’ll be right back, okay? I’m going to go and get some food and coffee, then I’ll be right back.” Frank blinked slowly at him, nodded and yawned.

“What’d Jam give me?” His words slurred together with sleep and drugs.

   “Something to help you sleep, baby.” He kissed Frank’s forehead, more really out of habit than anything, and slipped out from behind him, then rearranged his pillows.

   “Mmph… I’m not tired, though.” He muttered, a jaw cracking yawn escaping despite his apparent best efforts to keep it in. Gerard shook his head and smiled at Frank’s stubbornness and left the room. Mikey was awake and stretching lazily like Bunny in the sun, while Brendon, Ryan and Spencer had yet to arrive back at the hospital.

   “Hey, Mikes. Will you go and sit with Frankie? I’m going to go get some food and maybe some coffee.” He looked at the IV in his hand and winced, that damn needle still stuck in the back of his hand.

   “Well, maybe not the coffee. I might just go for a walk…” He nodded and ignored his younger brother’s snort of disbelief.

   “Mmm.” Was all Mikey said and checked his phone. Spencer had come and gone, saying that he was going with Pete, Patrick and Brian and that he would be back later that day, and yes, with more coffee. Mikey smiled a bit at the P.S. ‘ _Mikey, be careful. Because if your not, I’m going to raise you from the dead, kill you again, and then resurrect you a third time._ ’

   “Be careful, Gee. You’re fragile, and I think Frank’ll have my ass on a plate if anything happens to yours.” He smirked as his brother turned, eyebrows raised and a faint blush on his cheeks.

“Huh, I could say the same about you and Alicia. Nice job by the way, getting back in her good graces. Keep your ass safe, otherwise she’ll be after mine.”

“Nah, she’ll probably just kill you.” Gerard rolled his eyes and muttered about annoying little brothers, dangerous girlfriends and coffee.

Mikey huffed and yawned again, and shook his head. Everyone else aside from Bob and Danny, who had probably replaced Mary last night, were in the small waiting room with him.

   “Hey, Bob… Where’s everyone else?” He asked as the Chief looked over at him, paper raised and coffee cup steaming.

   “At home, at the station, or guarding the people here to be sure that nothing happens. Also, I have to leave soon, but Brendon, Ryan, Jon, Patrick and Wentz will be here before I do.”  

“Need to sleep in an actual bed, huh?” Danny yawned, eying Bob’s coffee but keeping his distance; no one messed with Bryar and his coffee intake. The reaction was worse than Gerard’s; you would find yourself ruthlessly deprived of anything but decaf at the station and Brian had learned **_The Stare_** from Bob himself.

   “Well, I’m going to go and sit with Frankie. Gerard has finally gone to go and get some coffee. And hopefully take a smoke break; I don’t think he’s gone so long without smoking since he went sober.” Mikey muttered, yawned and went to visit Frank.

The small man was half asleep when Mikey opened the door and barely moved when Mikey sat beside him on the bed.

   “Hey Frankie… How’re feeling?” He asked quietly, moving some hair away from his friend’s face.

   “M’ tired… And my chest is stiff… Where’d Gee go?” He yawned, looking around.

     “Just to go and get something to eat, drink some coffee and maybe take a cigarette break. He’ll be back in a few.”

   “Okay… What happened to McCracken?” His voice is dry and heavy with sleep. Mikey smirked and shook his head.

“Go to sleep, Frankie. You need it.”

   “Nah, I can stay up a bit longer.”  

“If I tell you what McCracken is going through, will you sleep?” Frank hummed and Mikey rolled his eyes.

   “Fine. Not much to tell; McCracken is in a holding cell, and Spencer and a few of the others are gathering the evidence. I think Pete has contacts ‘from way high up’ that he’s calling in.”

   “Yeah… Pete was in the FBI but an accident happened and he wasn’t able to do field work anymore; so he retired and became a body guard for Bri.”

   “How’d you know that?” Mikey asked, bewildered.

     “Patrick. And I’ve known Pete for awhile. He was one of the agents that talked to me after I was in a ‘stable mental condition’. He even visited me in the psych ward.”

   “Why were you in the psych ward?” Mikey asked, confused.

     “A kid whose dad was in McCracken’s gang cut me and left me to die, Brendon found me and everyone thought it was me who did it to myself. I was admitted for about a week before they realized I didn’t do it and I wasn’t a suicide case.” Frank slurred, the sleep medication making his words run together and his tongue looser.

   “Hm.” Mikey ran his finger’s through Frank’s hair, trying to get him to sleep; a technique he used on Gee and Alicia used whenever he was stressed and too wired to sleep. Frank started to close his eyes, and Mikey scratched just a bit on the back of the younger’s skull. Finally, Frank sank back into the pillows, chest rising and falling slower, eyes stilling behind his eyelids. He was deep asleep.

   ‘ _Finally._ ’ Mikey shook his head and took his iPod out of his pocket, turning up his music soon as the ear buds were in his ears and picking up the book he had left for Gerard to read in case he snapped out of his fouge state. About three chapters had been read, the page tip folded loosely in the middle of the third chapter. ‘Good Omens’; Mikey had read it about a thousand times before so he had no trouble picking up the plot line.

He didn’t hear the door opening over his music and the hand on his shoulder felt like Gerard’s so he didn’t bother looking up. It wasn’t until said hand started creeping towards his neck did he look up. Before he could say anything though, the man’s hand was wrapped tightly around his neck. Mikey flailed, attempting to get free, letting out a strangled cry, eyes darting towards the door and towards Frank. He fell out of his chair, the book skittering across the floor, his glasses knocked loose and flying to an unseen part of the room. The hand was joined by the other, slowly tightening around his neck and coffee and mint scented breath filled what little air he had left.

   “Well, well, well. It seems I beat you to the punch, eh, Way?”

“R…Rusty?!” He gasped out as the hands loosened before finding a better grip and tightening again.

“Surprised? I’d hoped you’d be. Soon as you’re gone, I’ll kill your brother and his ridiculous partner. And my name isn’t Rusty, it’s Jessie. Now I’ll finally be able to get my revenge on little Iero.” Rusty, Jessie, cooed in his ear, seemingly taking immense pleasure in seeing Mikey choke slowly as his air supply was cut off. His vision was starting to spark black and white at the edges and his legs and arms started to feel like lead, his heart pound, pound, pounding faster and faster as he breathed deeply as he could and let out another strangled shout. Jessie chuckled and smirked as Mikey slowly suffocated, a malicious light in his eyes as he stared down at the younger Way. Suddenly, his weight was gone and his hands ripped from Mikey’s neck; he turned on his side and gulped air greedily. There was a soft hand on his neck, the smell of cigarettes and cherry’s; Lindsey.

   “Breathe deeply Mikey, that’s it. In and out, in and out, like me, okay?” She lifted him into a sitting position and placed his hand on her chest. Her heart beat loudly and solidly underneath his fingers, her chest rising and falling steadily. Ryan was right next to him, checking Frank as Bob and Brendon wrestled with Jessie in the background as Pete’s voice reached his ears.

   “God damn it, the bastard nearly fucking killed Mikey and Frank! Let me past, Danny!”

   “NO! If I do, Gerard is going to hear and then we’ll be down a witness because he’ll have fucking killed him!” Danny snapped back. Slowly, his vision returned and he saw Lindsey smiling as if he were a little kid. There were hurried footsteps, shouting and then Lindsey was replaced by Gerard.

   “Oh my god, Mikes!” Mikey finally broke at seeing his brother, hair standing on end, IV gone, probably ripped it from his hand or something if the amount of blood was anything to go by but he didn’t care. He fell into Gerard’s arms and curled into his chest, crying. Frank was saying something, sounding _really_ angry, but then his protests and curses died down. Finally, Mikey looked up and saw Pete standing in front of him, cleaning off his glasses and then crouching down to place them on his face.

“See all right?” Mikey nodded and coughed, his voice not working properly. Ryan reappeared with a cup of water as Brendon dealt with Brian, Patrick and Spencer, if the voices outside the room were deciphered correctly by his lagging brain. He accepted the water gratefully and stood, leaning heavily on Gerard’s shoulder, drinking the water slowly.

   “What happened?” Gerard asked quietly as Lindsey appeared, looking pissed and worried, before forcing Gerard to sit in the chair and started to disinfect his hand, muttering under her breath at his stupidity.

“Rusty… Jessie he said his name was, came in. I thought he was you and didn’t turn until he started choking me; Frank was asleep, luckily, but he must have heard something because Bob didn’t come until I was almost unconscious. Gerard, what the fuck did you do to your hand?!” He rasped, noticing the blood and registering it.

   “Oh, I heard the commotion and when I was coming back from the balcony, I was attacked by someone who tried to strangle me with the IV line. I had hot coffee in my hand though so I just dumped it on his stomach and crotch. He managed to rip out the IV needle though and I just kicked him in the nuts. The orderlies came but I sprinted back here because if there was someone attacking me, then someone was going to be attacking you and Frank. And that is a lot of blood…” He added, looking down at Lindsey as she worked.

   “Yeah, you’re lucky he didn’t tear your fucking vein, moron! Come with me, Ryan take care of Mikey and give Frank another dose and then set a guard on his room. And make sure that Nick and Tyson are alright as well. Then call Toro and tell him to get his ass over here before something else happens.”

   “Got it.” Mikey watched as Gerard was pulled from the chair, his hand disinfected and wrapped but still bleeding; he knew Gee was going to need stitches… He rubbed his throat and winced.

“Don’t touch your neck. At all. I’ll get some ice and a pad of paper and pen. You’re not allowed to talk for an entire day, Way. Wentz, you’re on guard duty; watch everyone. And for the love of God, don’t kill Jessie. Bob already knocked him unconscious.”

   “Ryan,” Mikey tried but his throat hurt _way_ too much to continue after his lengthy explanation and he closed his mouth as the scruffy nurse glared at him.

   “Not a word. I need to get another dose for Frank and then your ice, paper and pen. Your brother will be getting a few stitches then Lindsey will probably send him back here. You, remember, aren’t to speak. Drink water, no coffee, and keep the ice on for about ten minutes at a time. Wentz, make sure he keeps it on.” Then he disappeared out the door. Bob came in, looking disheveled, Spencer, Brian and Patrick just behind him. Patrick was at Pete’s side in a second, while Spencer and Brian were next to Mikey before he could blink and move his glasses from where they had slipped on his nose.

   “Mikey, what the fuck happened?! I leave you alone for a few days and then Frank gets shot and nearly dies, Gerard starts losing touch with reality, you nearly get choked to death and Pete starts making sense. Can I not solve a case without something terrible happening, just once?!” Translation: _What the fuck, Mikey! You scared the shit out of me! NEVER do that again!!_

   “He can’t talk; Ryan forbade him from talking so his throat wouldn’t get worse.” Pete supplied when Mikey just shrugged and looked at Frank’s prone form.

   “Ugh… I’m going to go and deal with Jessie; Danny, you’re guarding Tyson and I’ll send Brendon with you to guard Nick. Patrick, Brian, you go with Spencer to see Gabe and Bill and gather the rest of the evidence against McCracken. I’ll get Jon here as well, Pete, so you can go and do whatever. God, this was supposed to be easy…” Bob muttered as he issued orders. Everyone nodded and Ryan returned at that moment with ice, a pad of paper and a pen, looked around the room, shrugged and went back to Mikey, positioning the ice pack just so, and handing him the pad and pen.

“Use that if you need to talk. Frank is asleep, Lindsey is finishing with Gerard, so he’ll be here soon and then the rest of you… I don’t really care, just don’t disturb the rest of the hospital any more, okay? The reporters are already crawling around outside; just… I don’t know. I’m going to go and deal with Nick and Tyson and make sure their still alive. Jesus Christ, I didn’t want to deal with this today. Or ever, really.” He sighed and left. Everyone else, aside from Pete and Mikey, left as well. Mikey sighed and sat heavily in the chair, taking the water that Pete held out for him.

“Mikes… I don’t even know what to say. Well, at least Alicia isn’t here. I’m pretty sure she’d have killed Jessie for so much as attempting to hurt you.” Mikey smirked and rolled his eyes before writing,

‘ _You think?! And I’m fine, god. Gee is the one I’m worried about.’_

“Why?”

‘ _He has an issue with needles and he need’s stitches._ ’ Pete nodded and shook his head.

“Well, then I pity the guy. Ryan said Lindsey was almost done with him so I’ll go and stand guard. Keep that ice on, Mikeyway.” Pete said sternly and Mikey nodded, mute. But he smiled and Pete grinned briefly back before shutting the door behind him. Not even two minutes later, Gerard was in the room, beside Mikey and looking at his brother before hugging him close as he could.

“Mikey, Mikey, Mikey, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry…” Gerard whispered and Mikey hugged his brother close, burying his nose Gerard’s neck, breathing deeply and trying to keep his mind straight. Too much to process at once…

“Lindsey said that you could sleep on the cot Ryan brought in for me to sleep on but I never noticed it till she mentioned it. There’s a pillow and a warm blanket though, and I’ll stay right here, Mikes, okay?” Mikey nodded and wrote,

‘ _Stop apologizing. I’m alive, just can’t talk for a day. Not that hard anyways. Frank’s asleep and probably will be for the rest of today and tomorrow. You need sleep, Gee. Stitches?_ ’ Gerard grimaced and nodded, holding out his hand to show the white bandages covering were the black spider silk like thread stretched his skin closed.

“Yeah. I ate though, before I came back, you know, before. I promise I’ll sleep, Mikes. Tomorrow, I’ll take you home and shower.” The ‘ _Then I’m right back here,_ ’ was unspoken but it was passed. Mikey sighed heavily and made a show of going over to the other bed and Gerard helped him get his shoes off before pulling the blanket over his brother and watching his chest fall and rise for a bit. Frank muttered something in his sleep-drugged state and Gerard turned his attention back to his boyfriend.

“Oh Frankie…” He muttered before carefully climbing behind him and wrapping an arm around his waist loosely before falling asleep himself.

+++++

   A sudden alarm woke Gerard and he snapped his head up, wincing at the crick in his neck. Only, he wasn’t in the hospital; no beeping that measured out Frank’s life, no chemical smell, no shifting and quiet breathing, no Mikey… No anything from the hospital. He was at his desk, drooling slightly on his folders.

   “What the fuck…” He muttered before standing and stretching. Suddenly, Brendon came in, well sprinting in would more accurately describe the harried beat cop as he looked around wildly for someone.

“Brendon? What’s wrong?” Gerard asked, and saw the fear and worry in his eyes.

“There you are, come on! What the fuck are you waiting for?! There’s a negotiation that turned ugly and now it’s a fucking shoot out. Come on, Gerard!!”

He didn’t need anymore prodding, but grabbed his keys and a vest, strapping it on as he moved around his desk, grabbing his gun from Brendon and followed him out of the practically deserted station, through the cold, steel grey morning to his Camero and soon as Brendon was in the car gunned the engine.

“Where to?”

   “Smith and Company Law firm. Mikey’s building.” He said as Gerard turned on his sirens and broke about every rule in highway and road safety and not really giving a damn. If people were even out on the roads, they could deal. Mikey and a lot of people were in danger and he was going to fucking crazy if anything bad happened.

Within ten minutes, they were careening into the parking lot, gun shots popping like kernels of corn on the stove.

   “Where’s Frank?!” he shouted as he cocked his gun, safety off. Brendon looked guilty and pointed to the floor that Mikey and Spencer’s office was on.

“Okay; I’m going in with the team.” He shouted as Bob jogged over, looking around as the shots suddenly stopped.

“Fine. You and Brendon take the sixth and fifth floors, Jon and me have the third and fourth floors, Marie, Danny, Justin, Eric, and Grace have the other floors. Move it, now! If someone tries to shoot you, shoot them first and for the love of GOD, make sure that everyone is safe. We don’t need any causalities.” Everyone assembled surprisingly quickly, almost as if when Bob said their names, they appeared…

   Gerard didn’t have anytime to question it though as Brendon was leading the way through to the back end of the building and Gerard narrowed his mind and focus to just this, his hearing strained to listen to each noise made by the group behind him before they split off and went through reception as Gerard and Brendon took the back service stairs with Bob, Jon and Maire and Danny. Everyone was silent expect for breathing and soft countdowns to separate again. Brendon and Gerard ran up the steps, meeting no obstacles and reaching the door that had a huge, faded neon green ‘6’ on it. Brendon eased the door open and looked form one end to the other, head swiveling slowly before he nodded and Gerard moved out into the hall. They followed the sounds of shouting and a few whimpers, the glass doors showing a few bodies moving around in the background but no one seemed to be hurt. Gerard nodded and jumped as Bob tapped his shoulder.

He counted down silently for three and Gerard nodded, before Brendon nodded and he lead the way across the floor to the doors, guns held out in front of them.

‘ _Come on, Frank, Mikey… Spencer… Please be alright.’_ Was all he was able to think of before Brendon was opening the door and sliding into the office, Gerard, Bob and Jon behind him. Then everything erupted into chaos.

A voice, a yell, from a guy in all black, a hysterical edge, had seen Gerard somehow, even though he was crouched behind the recpetion table with Brendon, invisible.

“Fuck.” Was all he said before a shot fired and Bob appeared, shooting twice before the guy scrambled away, bleeding heavily. But there was a sudden cry and Jon went on a knee, gritting his teeth. Bob checked him over and his face turned livid. Only the creepiest thing was that he sounded completely calm, though he looked ready to kill.

“Gerard, Brendon, go and find the other captives. And this time, shoot to fucking kill. Jon, come on, up, up, up.” Bob took out a bandana from his pocket and tied it tightly around Jon’s bicep, staunching the blood flow.

“Gerard,” Gerard nodded and moved with Brendon towards the doors that the other masked man escaped through, following his blood trail.

“Gerard, calm down, okay? Mikey and Frank are going to be fine.” Brendon whispered, attempting to calm down the high strung detective but it didn’t work. In fact, it made Gerard’s mind start skipping through scenario, usually worst case, until he stopped and shook his head, forcing himself to concentrate and moved forward, taking point.

“Do you mean, we have trouble?!” that was Jepha Howard but he didn’t sound as worried as Gerard wanted him to. If anything, he sounded more irritated than anxious. There was a muffled voice, a harsh laugh, and then Jepha sighing.

“Not that bad of an idea, Quinn. Here that, Frankie?” his voice turned to silk and as Gerard turned the corner he felt sick. Jepha and Quinn stood in the center of the room with Spencer and Mikey bound and gagged, muffled voices coming from another room, another henchman shouting for people to shut the fuck up. The supply closet was in that room, so that meant anyone who didn’t get out was in that room. Gerard didn’t really care though, mainly because his partner was standing at gun point, a gun to his chest, and a rebellious light in his eyes. He wasn’t bound or gagged but the threat of a gun was usually good enough a threat to keep on still. Jepha stood about ten feet away, circling him as Quinn leaned, relaxed almost languid, against the wall, gun loose in his hand but finger still on the trigger. Frank kept switching between watching Jepha circle him like a shark and Quinn as he tapped a rhythm against his thigh, looking for all the world like this were just a movie playing out in front of him that he had seen a hundred times. Seeing as they were McCracken’s men, they might as well have, and many more times.

“What? No snarky come back? Huh, your pretty little green eyes always have fire to them… How do you think they look when he’s sad? Should we find out?” Quinn smirked and levelled the gun at Mikey. Frank’s eyes widened as Mikey’s breathing turned sharp and ragged, eyes eyes trained directly on the muzzle that pointed at him from across the room.

“Hmmn. No comment. Hmph. Oh well. So sorry, Frankie. I really did like you.” Jepha almost manages to look sad before Gerard came in, shooting. Jepha ducked and Quinn rolled away, dropping to the floor. Brendon ran in and as Gerard drew their fire, took out the other henchman and Gerard could hear him talking to people, the lock blowing on the door before he started issuing orders. Jepha and Quinn took up residence behind a desk and one of them began to laugh.

“Oh, this is perfect! The man who wants to save his precious friends and baby brother! Oh god, this is so cliché.” It was Quinn and Jepha chuckled.

“Well, at least he made it interesting. I wasn’t expecting the beat cop to rescue the others. Now, we get to have some fun. Oh, nice doing business with you!” Jepha called and before Gerard could blink, Frank fell, blood spraying everywhere and hitting his face, painting it like spray paint.

Someone screamed and Gerard realized it was him. He shot at Quinn and Jepha but they had left, escaped. Frank was panting and Gerard immediaely turned his attention to his partner, attempting to staunch the blood flow as it pumped out of him. Frank’s tattoo’s stood out, stark against paling skin as he coughed and looked at Gerard with hopeless eyes, the rebellious light fading.

“Hold on Frank, come on babe, just hold on… Please, Frankie, don’t leave me…” Frank opened his mouth and coughed, blood painting his lips with a darker red than Gerard had ever seen on anyone, his hands coated in the warm, sticky red.

“Frank… Come on, don’t do this to me, Frankie….” He said, holding him close as Frank panted, lips moving in an attempt to form words. Gerard lowered his head to Frank’s so that he could speak into the detective’s ear.

“Why, Gee? You… You were supposed to save the day…” and then Frank is gone. The whole scene is gone and all that’s left is Gerard and black and the blood.

   “Why, Gerard? You said you loved me. You got me killed.” Frank appeared, blood still wet of his shirt. Mikey appeared next to him, glasses gone and bright purple bruises around his throat.

   “”Why, Gee? I’m your brother and yet you still let me die. Why?” They left, turning their backs. Then there was Grace, his childhood friend, standing there in a pool of blood.

“Gerard… Why’d you let me die?” Then she too left. Gerard raced after them, calling and crying for them to come back.

“No… No, please! Come back, please! I’m sorry! I'm sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” He was drowning, falling into a pool of blood as the black encircled him, choking.

“Gerard!” Frank. Gerard looked around for his partner, but he couldn’t find him. Couldn’t see. Couldn’t breathe. He was choking and when he opened his mouth, all that came in was blood, thick, sticky, and tasting of copper.

“Gee, wake up. It’s just a dream…” The four words made Gerard snap his eyes open and sit up abruptly as he looked around wildly, chest heaving and eyes darting. There was the chemical smell, the beeping of Frank’s heart mechanized, steady, and Frank’s back pressing against his chest.

“Gerard, you okay?” Gerard didn’t answer, only pulled Frank close to him, burying his face into his neck and mumbling,

   “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Frankie… I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” Frank didn’t do anything aside from scratch the back of his head and mutter sweet nothings into Gerard’s ear, trying to calm him down. When Gerard’s breathing calmed, Frank explained,

“Mikey left about ten minutes ago; Pete took him when Jon got here to take his place. You’re fine, Gerard. I’m fine, okay? Mikey’s fine. Calm down…” Frank’s words soothed the frantic detective and as Frank’s fingers wound their way into his hair, Gerard pulled him closer, unwilling to let go.

“Uh, Gerard, I need air…” Frank winced and Gerard loosened his grip before Frank started humming ‘Staircase to Heaven’ and Gerard started to fall asleep. Before he did though, he heard Frank start singing softly,

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are grey. You’ll never know dear, how much I love you. So please don’t take my sunshine away. So please don’t take my sunshine away. So please don’t take my sunshine away. So please, don’t take my Gerard away.” Before he again dropped off.

He didn’t dream.

++++

   Pete paced outside, cellphone pressed against his ear as he glanced around before there was a click and an irritated

   ‘ _Hello? Trohman speaking.’_

“Joe? It’s Pete.” There was shuffling and muffled cursing before Joe’s voice returned.

   ‘ _Pete?! What the fuck? Are you okay? What’s going on?’_

“I’m fine, mother hen. I need to pull a favor. And my favorite agent and analyst can get it, I’m betting.”

‘ _What is it?_ ’

“I need everything we’ve ever compiled against McCracken; associates, underlings, clients, killed, and how. Also, I need them in like… An hour.”

‘ _I would ask_ why _but I think I know. I’ll clear it with Rexha but you should be good; she still has a soft spot for you._ ’ Pete grinned and shook his head.

   “Yeah, yeah. I know.”  

   ‘ _How’s the knee?_ ’

“Better…”

‘ _Pete, seriously, why are you still in Jersey? Your knee is better; you could have become an analyst, or even a field agent again if you went through training again. I mean, I know it’s not gonna be as great as when, you know, you were chief and all but still...’_

“I know. It just seemed like a good idea; quieter than Chicago, I’ll give you that. And don’t get me wrong, I miss the field work and all, it’s…”

‘ _Just what? Pete Wentz, you have a bran like a fucking steel trap, even if you don’t act it. You were one of the best agents we had; so why the fuck did you accept the way, way, way downgrade to a body guard to the mayor of Jersey?’_

“I didn’t accept it, Joe. I requested it.”

   ‘ _Okay, that makes as much sense as a cat being able to breathe underwater. Pete, Bebe is considering making an exchange for you, if you want. Thompson is getting a bit too sore in the leg when he tore his ACL and can’t sit still enough to do desk work and can’t run fast enough. If you ask me right now, I can put in a word for you and you’ll be on a plane to Chicago by Thursday. Maybe Wednesday, if the order goes through fast enough. Everyone misses you, dude.’_ Joe’s voice turned soft as he said,

   ‘ _It’s a big, empty city without you going crazy and walking the streets. Why are you still in New Jersey?’_

Pete hesitated before he breathed out slowly and leaned against the solid brick of the hospital. Fuck, he could be home in less than a week… Frank and Gerard didn’t need him to stick around after the trial, Mikey he could keep in touch with through email and texting, all the others… He’d miss but that’s what email, skype and texting were for. If he had the time…

“Fuck… Fucking… I want to go back to Chicago but…”

‘ _What’s keeping you, dude?’_

“I have friends here, man. People who care… And… And…” Pete stopped, mid-sentence, as Patrick walked out, carrying two cups of steaming coffee, hat off his face and glasses sliding down his nose. He was wearing a black hoodie and slacks but Pete couldn’t help but smile; his hat was askew and his blonde hair ruffled, meaning he had actually gone out to a coffee shop, bought the coffee and come back, then hunted over the hospital for Pete. Or, at least, that’s what his head came up with.

   “One of those for me?” Pete asked, hand covering the mouthpiece to his phone.  

Patrick looked at him, one eyebrow raised and an affronted look on his face, but a smirk tugged at his lips as he replied,

   “No, Pete. I put half a carton of milk in it and then nuked it, letting it get too hot on top and too cold at the bottom, just the way you hate. Then I looked all over for you for no reason, only to finally find you outside in the freezing cold just so that I could drink an excellent cup of coffee and then toss the other away and then leave you too your stupid idea’s of thinking it’s a good idea to catch a flu when we’re trying to protect Brian and keep everyone else on track.” In complete deadpan before the smirk turned to an eye roll and a slight smile as he handed the large cup to the small bodyguard/assistant and leaned with him against the wall, hands tight around the paper cup as if the little body heat he had would protect it from the cooling, biting wind. Pete laughed and ignored Joe in the background as he asked what was going on, etc.

   “Yeah; just get me everything I asked for earlier; everything on McCracken, associates, people killed by him and those related to him, clients, the works. And tell Rexha thanks but no thanks. I got all I need here in Jersey.” Joe sighed but Pete could hear him chuckling.

   ‘ _Can do, Chief. And take it easy.’_

“Right. That’ll happen.” But Pete smiled and Joe huffed,

   ‘ _Bye. And_ call _jackass. It’s nice to know you’re not dead. Especially after that little incident about two years ago…’_

“Yeah, yeah. See you, Joe.” And hung up. Patrick looked at him with curiosity but didn’t say anything.

“Thanks for the coffee.” Pete said softly as Patrick drank a long, slow sip.

“You looked as though you were losing touch with reality. We can’t have that, can we?” Pete grinned and drank the still hot caffeinated liquid before he closed his eyes and smiled, wide and almost disbelieving.

   “How the fuck did you get this coffee?”

   “Uhh… I went to a store, a café they’re called, and ordered then paid and picked them up and walked back here… Have you never ordered coffee, Pete? I’m shocked. In the three years I’ve known you, I would have expected you to have been to several coffee houses.”

   “No, I mean this is hazelnut coffee with milk and sugar and the biggest size known to man for coffee related drinks. How did you…”

“You were ranting about how it’s too damn expensive, and how it only comes in season every other Christmas, etc. And every other palce burns the roast, etc, etc. So, while you were getting files and everyone else was eating and drinking shitty hospital food and watered down, instant coffee, I went to get _coffee_.”

“It is a vital and necessary thing for solving crime lord, drug dealer murder cases.”   
   Patrick grinned and nodded sagely.

   “Of course. Because we deal with so many, we know all about such things.”

   “Well, duh.” They managed to keep straight faces, silently drinking their coffee for all of about a minute before they started giggling then laughing.

   Pete smiled as he watched Patrick double over, coffee precariously clutched in his hand, and nodded to himself. There was one thing htat Chicago didn’t have and nothing would help fill the space of; Patrick Von Stump. The pair shared another look and fell into hysterics again, supporting each other and leaning against the wall when that failed. Slowly, they slid down the wall, giggling quietly with each other as they calmed down, catching their breath. Spencer, however, at that moment chose to call and Pete was still attempting to regin in his giggling as he answered.

   “Hello?”

   ‘ _WENTZ!!! What the fuck?! Spencer’s office is exploding with papers on McCracken, and not saying this isn’t REALLY impressive or some shit like that, but the interns are buried. BURIED, Pete, BURIED in paper. What the actual fuck?!_ ’ It was Mikey, and he did NOT sound happy. None the less, Pete failed at catching his breath, causing Patrick to steal the cellphone and walk a few feet away, talking calmly and slowly, presumably calming the man down.

Pete reclined against the wall and smiled to himself, breath whisping upwards like fading smoke from a cigarette. Chicago had family, his past, his _life_ , but New Jersey had great coffee, amazing, if odd, people, a group of whom were his friends, and Patrick. He raised his coffee cup, sipping quietly as Patrick talked, a low murmur of his voice barely carried over by the biting, gossip of the wind. He smiled. Yeah, he would stay here. Better than field work and or desk work any day.


	7. Some Endings are Better Left Happy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good lord... I finished it!!! It only took me roughly two years*** (See the Beginning of Time....)  
> Anyways, to those who read it, thanks for the kudos and bookmarks! To those who dropped comments, thank you!!!  
> Cas, I hope you enjoy this cause it took forever... But I hope it was worth the wait.   
> Disclaimer: I. Own. NOTHING. Aside from my OC's ((and yes, I know Frank Iero doesn't have actual family members named as they are in this fic but I didn't want to try and figure it all out. Call me lazy.)) Anyways, all people belong to their respective selves, as does all music and affiliated parties.   
> (Sorry if the chapter is short, but I just wanted to end it and not drag it out any more.)  
>  Enjoy!!!
> 
> -RR
> 
> (Sorry if the chapter is short, but I just wanted to end it and not drag it out any more.)

    “Alright tell me again as to WHY I shouldn’t have bounced your ass off these four walls already?” Jon growled, leaning agianst the bed side table as Ray shook his head and muttered something as Spencer reclined in a chair, watching, almost amused, as the deputy leaned close to Bert McCracken, who looked half-stoned on the drugs Ray was feeding into his blood stream through the IV drip and watched him shift, wincing as Ray tugged a bandage a bit too tightly.

   “Hey, hey… Aren’t you doctor types supposed to be loving and caring or some shit?” Ray didn’t even look up, just tugged the bandage one last time, smiling as he stood and patted McCracken’s bad foot.

   “There you go, Mr. McCracken. You should be fine within a week or less.”

     “A week?! I- I got shot, Doc! Doesn’t that count to anything?!” He seemed to regain some lucidity and Ray’s smile was paired with a deadly glare.

   “No, though that may be because you were just stabbed once or twice in the leg and had your shoulder torn in the fight. And shot in the back of the other leg, then had two fingers broken when one of your men ran out on you. So, no nothing major. Not saying you’ll be walking but you’ll be in a wheelchair. Well, he’s all yours gentlemen. Oh, and his files are on record already, just ask Greta or Ryan, they’ll get them for you.” And with that, he shut the door, leaving the mob boss in the clutches of a deputy who was uncharacteristically angry to levels that scared even the mightiest of men and the prosecutor who was there to be sure that said deputy didn’t literally rip the mob boss to shreds.

   “So, again. WHY should I not let Gerard in here to finish what he started? Why send Nick and who sent Jesse?” Bert settled in and gave a smirk.

   “Well, that’s too bad for you coppers, cause I don’t know and I’m no squealer.”

   “Huh, too bad for you then, Mr. McCracken. You like the drugs they got you on? Those were pretty nasty cuts that Gerard gave you when you attacked his partner, Frank Iero. Even worse the bullet wound in the back of your calf; had to graft some skin to fix it, didn’t they? Now, I personally haven’t had to have any body modification or surgery, so I wouldn’t know the amount of pain your in, even with the drugs. Now, both of them are asleep and Gerard hasn’t had coffee for about…”

    “Four days now, wow. I’d have expected him to stop being lucid by the second day, honestly. “ Spencer chimed, smirking over the cup of his own steaming cup.

    “And he’s not exactly a morning person. It’s seven o’clock at night. You can see how this may effect you. And if you can’t, then allow me to spell it out for you. You. Are. Finished. We have Quinn, we have Jepha, we have your little hitman, and man, does he squeal.” Jon growled, leveling his deadliest glare at the small man. Bert paled slightly but that might have been from the way he shifted in the bed, settling deeper into the pillows.

   “Come on Jon. Let’s just give him time to stew. He’s not gonna talk.” Spencer steered the simmering cop away from the mafia boss’ bedside before he did something regrettable; if something happened to McCracken, they lost the case. Luckily, none of his ‘ _higher circling birdies_ ’ as Frank had called them in a moment of semi-lucidity, would be able to get him out of this mess without revealing themselves or anything else of the sort. Then the short man had fallen back asleep.

   They had been building the case against McCracken for the past several days, what with the influx of information from Pete pulling strings, Mikey and Spencer working double time, almost around the clock to build it up. Witnesses contacted, members that were conscious and willing to negotiate a lesser sentence for information settled, the press beaten back as though it were a single entity. Spencer rubbed his temples as a headache built behind his eyes and Jon rubbed his boyfriend’s shoulder’s softly.

   “Hey, come on. Let’s go and get something to eat. You look beat.” Spencer nodded gratefully and Jon steered him towards the elevator, pausing as he pressed the button to go down to press a kiss to his lips, chaste and fleeting but it seemed to wake Spencer up.

    “Why does this keep happening to us?” He mumbled, barely heard but Jon shook his head.

   “The dude is in custody, Spencer. If anything, it means that we’ve caught a mass killer and drug lord, taken a bit more of the evil out of the world and the case will boost your reputation. The guy has so much evidence stacked against him that no jury in the world would even THINK about letting the man roam the shadows again.”

     “Yeah, I know. I just want to get back to my office and finish the last witness statement. I don’t trust Mikey to not spill coffee on something, or electrocute himself. Or fall out a window because he leaned against an open one and forgot he opened it…”

   “Wow, you sound worse than Gerard.”

     “No, I just don’t want an angry Donna Way or an angry Gerard Way coming after me. Besides, if I lose Mikey, then that means I have to do more work and I’d miss the kid.”  

   “Who are you and what have you done with Spencer?” Jon asked, miming shock. Spencer only growled and slapped his arm, playfully though.

   “Oh come on. You know I’m not as much of a hard ass as everyone seems to think.”

Jon opened his mouth, eyes set as a leer and Spencer felt heat rise to his face at the opening he had made for the deputy.

   “Don’t-“

    “Well, from back here, you have a pretty nice ass, Spence. Even with a suit.” Pete Wentz called as the elevator dinged behind them and he and Patrick stepped out of it, a smirk playing across his lips. Patrick sighed and shook his head at the idiot he had for a friend and decided to ignore the man entirely as he started off down the hall. He looked even thinner than normal, his side burns grown out just a bit more than usual, his eyes coated with dark circles and his hands clenched to a coffee cup tighter than Gerard on a Monday monring filled with paper work. and Spencer frowed his eyebrows together in worry.

   “Is Patrick okay? He looks dead.” Pete sighed and shrugged.

   “He’s under a lot of stress, all of us are. We’ve been working incessantly to get all the contacts we can, along with keeping on top of Brian’s work as a whole… I just can’t wait for this whole thing to end.” He ran a hand trough his hair and ran after Patrick as the prosecutor and deputy stepped into the elevator that opened to take them downstairs.

   They all could agree with that sentiment… The case had been closed, technically, but with all the reporters and loose ends to tie up in the case and Gerard and Frank temporarily out of commission due to their injuries, it now fell to the rest of them to pack away the case neatly as possible. They all knew McCracken wasn’t going to be acquitted or even plead for aslym or insanity. He was a cold blood murdering, drug dealing mafia boss, plain and simple.

   “Come on, let’s get this shit over with.” Jon pounded Spencer on the back and the lawyer nodded but winced. His lover had a strong arm…

   The rest of the week was spent in a variety of stages; some gathering materials and organizing the case, others piecing together testimony and collecting evidence, two assigning the date for the “hearing” and two others gathering the jury members as the rest beat back the carnivorous media by baiting them with vague details. All however, were drinking coffee like it was air, spending the long nights pouring over papers and barely closing their eyes for more than an hour or two.

   Finally, the day of the hearing arrived. Frank was wheeled into the court room, Ray’s orders, Gerard pushing him as McCracken glared from the other side of the court room.

   Pete, Brian, Patrick, Ray, Lindsey, Jamia, Mikey, Ryan, Brendon, Bob, Alicia, Robin, Ryland, Nate, and Nick among the auidnece. Spencer, Gerard and Frank took their places as Will sat down slowly, looking over the room before nodding. A guard, named Krellin, came in and said in a surprisingly loud but slightly effeminate voice,

   “All rise for the Honorable Gabriel Saporta!” everyone rose as a collection and Gabe enertered, looking bored, lazy, scrutinizing, and as though he were slightly high all at once.

   “The case of Way versus McCracken is now underway. Mister Smith, please call your first witness.” And so it began. Frank wheeled himself over to the stand, swore on the Bible and with a little help standing, was able to sit in the stand. He went through his testimony, the defender, Mister Porter, tried to get him to slip but all Frank said was,

   “I got shot. In the the heart for a good reason. I’ve lost my family to this man. I have the note as evidence, one of his own men confessed to it. There is no way in hell that he is insane. An insane man couldn’t run an empire.”

   “Yes but-“

    “Objection!” Spencer cried and Gabe turned to the man, eyebrows raised and a sudden clarity on his face

    “Yes?”

   “His questions are not relative to his case. He makes no point other than working a new angle.”

   “Sustained. Porter, sit. Smith, you’re up. Krellin, help Mister Iero down from the stand.” And then it dragged on and on and on. Finally, Gabe hit his gavel so hard that it echoed for at least a minute afterwards. He glared at McCracken and the man shrank a little. His lawyer opened his mouth but Gabe raised his gavel as a warning.

     “Now that all the evidence has come to light and all the witnesses have spoken, jury. Are you ready to make your decision?” The head juryman nodded and stood.

   “We, the jury, find Robert McCracken…" 

                                                       _-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

 

    Frank sat outside on the roof of the house, smoking his fourth cigarette when he heard the window open and Gerard climb out to sit next to him.

   “We did it?” It was a question, a confused, disbelieving question that Gerard could only answer one way. He pulled Frank close and kissed him lightly, chastely, on the lips and breathed,

“Yeah, we did it. McCracken in gone, from all out lives, forever. There’s a full investigation going on right now, even though he’s been sentenced with life with no chance at bail. We’re trying to find everyone else that was involved with him.” Frank pulled away, turning back to stare up at the blue-black sky, the star’s winking down at them and the moon casting everything in a silver light.

   “Gerard, why is the world so ugly?”

The detective sighed and took a drag from Frank’s cigarette, eyes squinting out at the distance, the lights of the city like fallen stars, the roamntic moment disappearing and he turned thoughtful.

   “The world is always ugly, Frankie. We know this better then most people. But, fortunately, there are pockets of beauty left.”  

    “Oh? Like what?”

   “Well, there’s art and music. There’s the innocence of kids because they don’t know what’s out there, there’s nature and the night sky. The stars though, don’t seem to talk to much. And there’s family, the real feeling and connection between people, blood related or not, and how they love the other so much, care that much. And then there’s you, Frankie.” Gerard wasn’t looking at him anymore; he was gazing at the full moon, dark clouds appearing s the freezing wind whipped through them but neither man cared.

   “How am I beautiful, Gerard? I’m a scarred man with a fucked up past and nothing really left, aside from some great friends. McCracken took everything from me, and if my family and friends were here, I’d say so long and sorry that I couldn’t help. Be the man they needed before every one of them met tragic ends. I’m pretty sure I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I missed my family tonight.” He felt tears slide down his face, hot against the biting chill but he didn’t care. Gerard turned to him then, staring straight into his eyes, gaze intense and words sincere. He took Frank’s face in his hands, cupping his jaw gently.

   “You’re beautiful to me, Frank. You’re amazing; talented and funny, a total bad-ass but you care so much about your friend’s it makes me feel selfish. You’re the whole reason McCracken is in maximum security prison, and partially the reason why I’m still here. Francis Anthony Iero, you’re scarred, yeah, and have a fucked up past. McCracken took everything, but you don’t have to cry because he can’t take away my feelings for you, ever. No one ever will. I promise you, you have a family. You always will, always have. I love you, Frank.” He breathed the last part against Frank’s face, cold breath fogging his vision, before he felt Gerard’s mouth on his own.

   It was cold and slightly awkward, what with the slope of the roof and the cold, the way their bodies were twisted but neither man cared. They broke apart and Gerard stood, pulling Frank with him and moving back inside.

    “Come on, it’s Christmas. I think Mikey is here by now.”

   Frank giggled and allowed Gerard to pull him back off the roof and through the window, mind going off in a thousand different direction at once. There were voices downstairs along with barking from Peppers, Sweet Pea and Maire but as they descended, everything went quiet and Frank felt unease creep up his spine.

   “Gee… What,” Gerard looked at him, eyebrows raised and a grin n his face and Frank felt the unease grow. That look meant only one thing; Gerard was planning something.

   “Just, trust me Frankie.” He sighed but didn’t argue, not when Gerard put a hand over his eyes and his mouth close to his ear.

   “Merry Christmas, Frankie.” And removed his hand. Frank’s jaw dropped, blinked several times, closed his mouth, opened it again and looked back and forth between Gerard the group. When he had been released earlier that day, there had only been a tree and a few decorations, the fire in the fireplace burning low, the tree sparsely decorated from Gerard’s few ornaments and the dogs lounging on the couch. Now, it was filled with people; Mikey, Brendon, Ryan, Spencer, Jon, Bob, Brian, Pete, Patrick, Jamia, Ray, Lindsey, Tyson, Nick, Donna Way, Joe, Andy, Ryland, Nate, even Bill and Gabe, who looked a bit awkward but had a huge grin on his face.

   The door bell rang suddenly and Gerard scampered away to answer it as Frank stared at his friends, who were grinning, well, more like smirking. Suddenly, he heard a scream and whipped around, gun pulled out from the small of his back so fast he was a blur. A small body hit his legs and he blinked, looking down at his legs and then back up. Luke, Chris, Mia, Lucy, Marie, Ana, Bel, Jake, and little Anthony stood before him, arms laden with bags. Luke’s face was right in front of Frank’s gun and he grimaced.

   “Jesus Frankie. I know I forgot to call you, like, two months ago when they said I could and I’m sorry, but do you REALLY have to blow my brain’s out?” Mikey plucked the gun out his shaking hands and handed it to Bob, who stuck it somewhere. Frank didn’t see where.

     “What… Wait, you’re real? I’m not dead, or hallucinating? No wait, I’m still in the hospital high on morphine because of the gun…”

     “No, Frank. Their actually here, you’re not dreaming and yes, they’re here to stay.” Gerard said, leaning calmly against the door frame. Frank blinked and then hugged his cousins close, each one piling on. Gerard chuckled and everyone else in the room smiled, then resumed chatting.

   “Uncle Frankie, can we open our gifts now?” Mia asked. God, she had gotten big! The last time he had seen her was when she was maybe eight; now she was twelve years old and tall as him!

       “Yeah… Yeah.” Was all he could say and the small, reunited family mingled with the hodgepodge family. Gerard smiled and moved over to Frank, who pulled him into a crushing hug.

   “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you…” He kept repeating, suddenly feeling weak. Gerard smiled against his hair and pulled him over to the couch.

   Frank closed his eyes, breathing slowly to calm himself down so he didn’t launch himself off the couch and back into his families arms and possibly tear his stitches. Gerard placed a present in his lap and he watched everyone sitting in this small room; the couch filled, the floor littered with gifts, plates and cups and bodies of people, laughter and talking echoing everywhere. He squeezed Gerard’s hand and smiled as he tore open the small box. It was from Gerard… It was a small picture, a photograph.

   It was him, Mikey, Ray, Brendon, Gerard, Bob, Jon, Pete, Patrick, Spencer, Ryan, Brian, Jamia, and Lindsey at Ray’s, sprawled out in his basement; Spencer laying across Jon, Ray, Brendon and Ryan all in animate conversation while Lindsey and Jamia are perched on the back of the couch, Jamia lounging across Lindsey. Pete and Patrick sat in chairs, guitar slung across his lap as Patrick is caught in mid laugh. Brian and Bob stood by the pool table, leaning into each other as if to conspire but Brian was smiling and Bob looked as if he were about to laugh.

   Mikey leaned against Gerard, looking at his brother as Frank sprawled across them both, hands gesturing wildly. Gerard was smiling widely, his eyes crinkling at the corners in disbelief and Mikey had a smug look on his face, like he knew exactly what Frank was saying was true. Peppers lay on his stomach and Marie was chewing a bone on the floor, paws overlaid on top of it.

   “Look behind that picture.” Gerard said softly as he tore open a gift; it was a set of Alfred Hitchcock movies and he squealed in delight, launching himself at Brian before he reclaimed his spot.

Frank shook his head at his… boyfriends(?) antics. He shook his head; he was still trying to get used to calling Gerard his boyfriend, but like Mikey told him, he and Gerard had been dating since the second week of their partnership, they just never knew it. He saw the back of a photo and his heart sped up.

   ‘Frankie’s 11th birthday, Grandma, Grandpa, Frank Sr., Ma, Little R, Mary, Jack, Mike, Lauren, Brendon, Tyson, Nicky, and Claire. Frankie is so cute as a mini-Frankenstein monster!’ was written in his mother’s easy cursive and his breath caught. With shaking fingers, he turned it over and felt tears well up at the edges.

   There he was, grinning wide, with Mike and Lauren on one side of him, Tyson and Nick and Mike the Three Musketeers, Lauren and Claire were sunflowers, their bodies dressed in green, their faces painted black and gold petals sticking around them. Brendon held up a peace sign, dressed up as a mad scientist from a steam punk era. He himself had gone as an adorable little Frankenstein. Jack went as a lion, chasing them up and down the stairs that night… He was holding Rebecca, still barely a new born, just behind Frank’s chair. His dad went as Doctor Frankenstein, jet black hair combed over, molecule in place. His grandfather was grinning as he sat at his son’s elbow, dressed in a tuxedo, monocle, top hat and cane making him look as if he were from a Victorian painting, his grandmother dressed up as a fancy lady. His mom was Frankenstein’s bride, laughing as she leaned against his dad’s arm. Mary went as a tigress, fangs and everything…

   He flipped it over and smiled, tears sliding down his face slowly as the memory came flooding back.

   “Frank?” Gerard’s voice was soft as he gently swiped away a few of the tears before they hit the precious photo.

    “Just… Thank you, Gee.” Gerard smiled in relief and pressed a kiss to his cheek, then opened his own gift. Frank looked around the room, before cold and a bit lonely, with just him and Gerard, now filled with family and friends, the fire blazing high. He smiled and nodded to himself.

   He had a family, a loving boyfriend, and amazing friends.

   “Always have, always will.” Gerard said softly beside him, as if he read his thoughts. He smiled and handed Gabe and Mikey their gifts, smirking at Gabe’s confused stare.

   “You’ll like it, dude.” Gabe shrugged and opened the wrapping paper, then his eyes widened comically. It was from William; a new hoodie, which Gerard had printed a cobra on. Ryland leaned over his shoulder and laughed at the sight, Gabe hurriedly stripping off his outer layers and throwing on the new garment was actually really quite hilarious. For Mikey, he got a beanie that Frank had seen when he was in town and it was like a slap across the face that stamped ‘MIKEY’ across his forehead.

   He grinned widely and jammed it on his head, looking quite content.

Frank winced as he moved to stand a bit too quickly, the stitches pulling, the dark dancing before his eyes and Gerard was beside him in a second, worry and fear painted across his face.  

   “I’m fine.” He placated his boyfriend and Gerard backed off a bit. It was a long time before everyone filtered out of the small house, Frank’s cousins bunking with Ray before they moved into a more permanent place, promising to come and catch up tomorrow. It was near one o’clock when the duo were finally able to climb into bed, exhausted but happy.

   “Good night, Gerard. Thank you.” Frank said before Peppers, Sweet Pea and Marie jumped up onto the bed and curled around them, almost like a barrier. Gerard suddenly nudged him awake and Frank yawned but looked out the window and smiled. It was snowing, settling on the quiet ground evenly. Innocent.

   “Merry Christmas, Frank.” Gerard whispered, tugging him back down and curling protectively around him then pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck. “I love you, Frankie.”

   Frank smiled and turned so his head was tucked under Gerard’s chin, and pulled the cover’s tighter around them. The snow outside was cold, the world ugly with it’s pockets of beauty. Inside, it was warm and safe, were nothing could touch him or Gerard. Outside, it was dark, even in the light of day but here, the only darkness Frank would fade into now was sleep.

   “Merry Christmas, Gee. I love you, too.”


End file.
